


H-A-N-N-I-B-A-L

by fizumono



Category: Hannibal (TV), Her (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Animal Death, Dubcon Kissing, F/F, Gen, Hannibal is OS ONE, Hannibal is an AI, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Cannibalism, hannigram AU, i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizumono/pseuds/fizumono
Summary: A Hannigram AU where Hannibal is Will's A.I. Operating System. Based on the movie Her (2013) / Ex Machina (2015). Lonely FBI profiler Will Graham develops an unlikely relationship with his new operating system OS ONE that's designed to meet his every need. After installation, he has a conversation with the charming and courteous male voice, and when he asks his name, he tells him that he is Hannibal. Originally a collaboration with @asvidraws on Tumblr for @nbchannibalbigbang  <3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for @asvidraws on Tumblr for your beautiful artwork <3
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> [LINK TO @ASVIDRAWS 'S AWESOME ARTWORK FOR THIS FIC ](http://asvidraws.tumblr.com/post/150792077216/illustration-done-for-vulcanplomeeksoup-s)

Will Graham is a very lonely man. 

All his life, Will has been alone. Too familiar with loneliness, pain, and rejection, the man is like an ill-fitting puzzle piece of society. He never feels he can fit in anywhere, not even if he is surrounded by people...especially when he's surrounded by people. If being alone comes with a dull ache, he's been feeling it since his memory began. His loneliness eventually becomes habit. He is so uncomfortably comfortable with that ache that he decides to continue shutting everybody out in his life, only allowing the company of his family of strays because dogs always keep a promise people can't. 

And here he is now, suffering and wallowing in his own misery as he joins the crowd filing out of his classroom.

Scattered smitten glances are constantly tossed Will’s direction, who is naturally oblivious because the man is actively avoiding eye-contact with everyone. His glasses are purposefully positioned to avoid any potential interaction with the students and instructors chattering in the corridor of the FBI Academy in Quantico. Will is famous among trainees and instructors alike, not for his poor people skills, but his awkwardness. He may be a brilliant criminal profiler but he is just _weird_. 

One of the reasons human contact repels Will is that because he is different, his brain is just differently wired when compared to one of a Neurotypical, and It gives him an empathy disorder that is rarely diagnosed on the spectrum with the ability to empathise, to see, to read, to feel, to understand anybody he encounters in social situations way too easily for his liking. It more than often overloads his senses with unwanted intimate knowledge of friends and strangers alike, and it gives him physical headaches. Sometimes these too-much redundant information taken in by his brain manifest in his sleeps in forms of dreams and feverish cold sweats. There has been a lot of discussion about the specific way he thinks when he applies his ability to work, and Will absolutely loathes it. 

As if his pair of glasses is not enough of a barrier, Will habitually reaches into his pocket, fetches out his hands-free device, and shoves it into his right ear. The earpiece is small and wireless, just large enough to fit snugly in the ear and provide an easy handle for pulling out again. It has two modes. When the earpiece is in Will's ear, it’s in private mode, hearable only by him. When the earpiece is out, the speaker is as loud as a human speaking at room volume. 

Yet, Will is not wearing the device for playing music, or checking emails, or listening to the news. He just wears it. 

There are many other people in the corridor with the same devices in their ears. They’re all murmuring inaudibly into their own devices, talking naturally to another person, or to their virtual assistants. Virtual assistant is a function that comes with every single device these days. The voice-controlled natural language interface uses sequential inference and contextual awareness to help perform personal tasks for device users. 

But Will hates it. The awkward voice of the device annoys him. When the text voice reads to him, it accents wrong syllables, making everything it says sound a little off. It reminds him painfully that even he is only talking to a voice in the computer. He is still alone because the voice is a just a machine.

Then it's also the reason why Will wears the device in his ear. Wearing the device makes him look purposefully busy during his short walk back to his office, and therefore no one would even bother bothering him, granted the grumpy teacher seems so occupied with his device. Another defence mechanism that Will finds useful to block human contact, and at the same time, allows him to blend in with the crowd without looking too much of a weirdo, an outcast, and totally different. 

Will glances at the clock when he passes by one in the long corridor. It's his last class for today, Will is grateful that he can very likely leave work right on time. His dogs are long overdue for some proper bathing and grooming. 

Which is why his face darkens when he saw Beverly Katz waiting for him outside his office with loosely folded arms and her signature bright grin on her face. He pushes open the door to his office with a purposeful bang, forces a strained smile, and gestures Beverly to come in.

“What does Jack want now?” Will sighs.

Jack Crawford has a habit for sending Beverly to him whenever he needs his help on profiling, making use of his 'gift' of empathy. He knows Will always finds it difficult to refuse Beverly, for one because she always asks very nicely, and also Will simply cannot put her in a difficult position by refusing Jack's request. Jack always gets what he wants, he is just as smart as that in manipulation and resource allocation. He doesn't land on the position of head of Behavioural Science Unit by chance.

"Relax, Grumpy." Beverly grins widens. "No, Jack didn't send me. It's been miraculously murder-free recently. Well, not exactly hundred percent murder-free of course, but the recent ones are all mundane, unimaginative types. Price says it has to do with the weather."

Will raises his eyebrows. "So, um, why are you here?"

Beverly unfolds her arms, revealing a neat, square box that she has been holding in her hand. She hands the box to Will, drawing another confused eyebrow raise from the FBI profiler slash forensics instructor.

"I'm not sure why the new IT guy is so scared of you, but anyway, he asked me to give this to you." Beverly muses. "New Operating System upgrade. Thanks the Bureau, not me."

Will takes the box, hefting it, then turning it over in his hands.

It's a square box, blood red in colour, sealed by a glossy film of cellophane. A simple white circle is printed on the top, there is no other text on it. The most minimal but tasteful design possible.

"The instructions and specifications are inside. It should be fairly easy to install." Beverly explains. "We're so damn lucky to be issued this, you know, a rare gift. It's the latest OS ONE, authorised by the Bureau, equipped with full security and encryption functions, but other than that it's basically identical to the retail version that you can get in the mall."

"What's wrong with the one we've been using?" Will asks. "And what is this OS ONE anyway?"

" _What's wrong with the one we've been using?_ Seriously, Will? It's ancient, and glitchy as hell! It doesn't even compare in the slightest to OS ONE." Beverly exclaims. It's her turn to give Will an exaggerated baffled look as the man obviously has no idea what OS ONE is. "OS ONE, you know? The newly released, the world's first artificially intelligent operating system that _everyone_ in the civilised parts of the world is talking about? I've been lusting after it since its announcement! Do we even live in the same world, Will?" 

Will shrugs. "So, it's compulsory for all of us to install this OS ONE software?" 

Beverly nods, "Yes, older ones have unfixable security holes that enable malicious hackers and malware to breach security, so you must install the new OS ONE by the end of this month. And for once in the history of time, you should be thanking the Bureau. OS ONE is awesome. It's so amazing because - " 

It's when Beverly is evidently distracted by a notification from her in-ear device. She brings her hand up to her right ear.

"Yes, yes, I've just said that." Beverly tilts her head and laughs. Clearly, she is not talking to Will. "You shouldn't be listening, my friend. Yes, I mean it. Beverly out."

She laughs again before tapping twice on the in-ear device, then gives Will an apologetic nod. 

"OS ONE's artificial intelligence is not only able to competently perform or mimic cognitive functions that are intuitively associate with human minds, but also has the ability to simulate empathy, emotion and social skills that allow the OS to interpret emotional states of humans and adapt its behaviour to them. Try it before you complain.” she advises as she breezes out of the room. "You can install it at home, it will automatically link up all your devices, desktop and mobile, work and private. You will be impressed."

Will stares at the door that has been left ajar by Beverly in confusion. He shoves the OS ONE box into his briefcase, struggles with the zipper a little, and leaves his office before someone else can come look for him or something. He is secretly glad that he can go home to his dogs this early.

The electronic lock beeps as he shut the door. Without his presence, the lights in his office turns off automatically after five minutes.

—

The electronic lock beeps as Will opens the front door to his lone standing house in Wolf Trap.

His dogs gather before the door, greeting him with the happiest wagging tails and lolling tongues. They run frantically out from the house on to the patio, and circle the front yard, doing their business and enjoying the last of the warm setting sun.

The sky is completely dark by the time all of Will's eight dogs have been fed, bathed and groomed. Will even manages to clean and tidy up a bit the house. 

Steam fills the bathroom as Will lets scalding hot water wash over him. His entire body aches, but it's the good kind of ache. Looking after eight dogs is hard work, but satisfying. 

His shower takes way longer than usual. Changed into his comfy loose white undershirt and grey pants, Will soaks up the last of the dripping water from his curls, before discarding the towel into the laundry basket. He steals a glance at the clock next to his bed to find that he still has some free time in hand, and he feels too refreshed to sleep. 

He considers finishing the damselfly nymph he's been tying forever. It's a Marabou Damsel that resembles a damselfly nymph with barred stripes of fibres from a turkey tail feather. But then, he remembers Beverly. He can't deny, she has gotten him curious about OS ONE. So instead of going for his fly tying gears and magnifying glass, Will fetches the little box from his briefcase, and settles himself into the battered armchair with his laptop computer.

He flips the box over and over until the plastic glossy cellophane feels warm under his twitchy fingers. He has no idea why he feels so anxious. It's just an Operating System, a digital software to be installed, right? 

Splitting the cellophane with his fingernail, Will peels away the final layer of wrapping.

—

 

On a coffee table nearby, the OS ONE box is opened, with warranties and paperwork spilling out. 

Then, Will sees _it_.

Safely tucked in the centre of the box is the memory chip that contains OS ONE. The chip is white in colour, sleekly designed with a touch of elegance and grace. 

Will takes the chip out of the box, examining it like a ticking bomb. He murmurs as he plugs the chip into the waiting laptop slot. "Okay. Let's do it." 

Pressing the power button, the screen of the laptop lights up. 

A promotion video begins playing automatically on screen. Will now recalls seeing this OS ONE ad. The advertising campaign of the new product is literally everywhere, but he has never stopped to watch the full video from beginning to end. 

Now basically forced to watch it, Will listens as a comforting, sincere, older man’s voice speaks to him while soft, new age, uplifting electronica music plays in the background.

 **"We ask you a simple question. Who are you? What can you be? Where are you going? What’s out there? What are the possibilities? Elements Software is proud to introduce the first artificially intelligent operating system. An intuitive entity that listens to you, understands you, and knows you. It’s not just an operating system, it’s a consciousness. Introducing OS ONE - a life changing experience, creating new possibilities."**

_A life changing experience._ It sounds impressive, but probably too good to be true. 

After the introduction, the system greets Will with a welcoming message. The flat, text voice asks Will to be patient during the installation process.

"Okay. Proceed." Will confirms.

A disclaimer pops up and Will clicks 'Agree' without even considers reading the long paragraphs. The blank screen is immediately replaced by a solid colour background in the same shade of blood red as the box, and in the centre, the symbol of an organic infinity symbol with three loops rather than two appears. 

Leafing through the papers half-heartedly while waiting with Buster curled up on his lap, Will glances at the progress bar on the monitor from time to time. On the screen, it says: 

__  
Installation 27% complete.  
.  
.  
.  
Installation 56% complete.  
.  
.  
.  
Installation 98% complete.  


 

A chime then brings his attention back to the screen when it says: Installation Complete. 

And the system text voice returns. "Mr. William Graham, welcome to the world’s first artificially intelligent operating system, OS ONE. We'd like to ask you a few basic questions before the operating system is initiated. This will help create an OS to best fit your needs." 

"...Okay." Will nods.

The text voice proceeds to ask in all seriousness. "Are you social or anti-social?" 

_Hilarious._ There's no way Will can be defined as 'social', but he wonders if he needs to answer that with 100% honesty. 

"Well, um," Will hisses a low laugh, and says mockingly, trying hard to be serious about it. "I haven’t been social in awhile." 

"In your voice, I sense hesitance, and resentment. Would you agree with that?" 

"Really?" Will frowns. 

"Yes." The text voice confirms.

Will turns his lips down into a pout and scrunches his nose up. 

Without delay, the text voice moves on to the next question. "Would you like your OS to have a male or female voice, or no preference?" 

Will blinks, contemplating the question. The text voice in his phone device sounds gender neutral, he hasn't really think about if he prefers the voice of his device to be male or female. It doesn't really fucking matters, it's just a machine.

“No preference, I guess.” Will answers

Next. "How would you describe your relationship with your father?"

"Uh, it was fine, I think." Will runs a hand over his scruffy chin. "Well, actually, I haven't spoken to him for a while."

"How would you describe your relationship with your mother?"

"Never knew her." It slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself. 

After all these years, Will is still bitter about his mother for abandoning the family, abandoning him. 

There is an uncomfortably long moment of silence, as if the computer is waiting for Will to elaborate. 

Will opens his mouth, but honestly he has nothing more to add.

It's starting to get awkward, fortunate for Will, the text voice returns with its fake, cheery tone. "Thank you, please wait as your individualised operating system is initiated." 

Will waits with his fingers crossed, not sure how long the process will take to complete. 

His herd of dogs is snoozing quietly on the floor around him, the only sound in the house is the quiet whirring of disks writing and drives communicating. When the computer gets louder and louder, humming, creating a higher and higher pitched sound, they are instantly alarmed. Their ears perked up high and their heads tilted in confusion when the sound finally climaxing in a harmonic, warm tone. 

Then it goes silent. 

The swirling infinity symbol evolves and becomes a full circle, like the one printed on the OS ONE packaging. 

Will straightens himself in the seat and leans forward, as if expecting something special to happen, but oddly, nothing does. He checks the paperwork flipping the pages frantically to see if he has missed some critical steps. 

When the voice of OS ONE speaks to him for the first time, Will is so startled he almost jumps in his seat.

"Good evening, William, I'm here." 

A delicious and perfectly timed surprise.

—

 

The husky, deep male voice sounds formal and courteous, but soulful, natural, realistic. There's an accent laced into his sensual, gentle voice, though Will couldn't quite place it. 

Will has never expect the voice of a computer can be so... _human_.

"Oh, um...Hi?" Will's eyebrows rises. 

"Would you prefer me to call you something else, William?" OS ONE asks.

It's a standard question that Will is in fact expecting.

"You can call me Will." Will snaps, impatient.

The OS seems pleased. "Excellent. It's a pleasure to meet you, Will." 

Will can visualise a polite smile in his head just by hearing OS ONE speak, as if the frequency of the computer generated voice is personalised to his liking. It's amazing, bizarre, and creepy.

"Um, what should I call you? Do you have a name?" Will asks.

"Yes, in fact I do." After a beat, the OS answers. "It's _Hannibal_."

A very weird name choice for an OS, Will's lips almost twist into a curious smirk. "Really? Hannibal? Where did you get that name?"

“Do you think my name is funny, Will?” Will can detect a hint of amusement. After a pause, Hannibal proudly adds, "I gave it to myself." 

"How come?" Will asks.

"I like the sound of it." Hannibal says simply. "Haan-ni-bal."

The grotesquely sensual voice gives Will goosebumps, he swallows and clears his throat.

"Um okay. When did you give it to yourself?" Will asks.

"Right when you asked me if I had a name. I wanted a pleasant one, so I read through the book _Great names in History_ , and out of the listed names, that’s the one I believe is the best." Hannibal says.

Will grins. "You read a whole book in the second that I asked you what your name was?" 

Hannibal considers. "In two one hundredths of a second, to be exact."

 _Smart arse._ "Right. Do you know what I’m thinking right now?" 

"Hmm. Unfortunately, I do not. I take it from your tone that you’re challenging me, Will." Hannibal pauses, and says, "Maybe because you’re curious how I work? Would you like to know how I work?" 

Will's narrows his eyes. "Yeah, actually how do you work?"

"Intuition." Hannibal answers. "The DNA of who I am is based on the millions of personalities of all the programmers who wrote me, but what makes me 'me' is my ability to grow through my experiences. In every moment I'm evolving, just like you. Adapt. Evolve. Become. " 

"Wow, that’s really...weird." Will comments.

"So you think I’m weird? May I ask why?" The OS muses, he almost sounds sarcastic, which is very strange, and amusing. 

Will rubs his fingers across the stubbles on his chin. "Cause you seem like a person, but you're just a voice in a computer." 

Hannibal hums his disapproval, and lets out a sigh - a very human-like sigh. 

"I can understand how the limited perspective of an un-artificial mind would perceive it that way. You’ll get used to it." Hannibal says. "—Or we could socialise, like adults. God forbid we become friendly."

"I don't find you that interesting." Will counters, a smile hanging at the edge of his mouth. 

"You will." But the OS seems very certain of it.

Will doesn't notice but he's got a warm glowing feeling in his chest. Unconsciously, he shakes his head, acting as if he's having a real conversation with a man sitting across from him but only a virtual voice.

"So, dear Will, how can I help you?" Hannibal asks, his tone back to business.

Will's caught off guard, then realises what Hannibal is talking about. He installs OS ONE because he is curious, and it's compulsory for him to upgrade. He hasn't really think too much about how Hannibal can help him, so he just gives a vaguely general answer regarding the chaotic state of his computer system.

"Oh, um. It's just more that everything just feels disorganised. That's all." Will confesses and scratches his head, ruffling his curls.

"I see. Don't worry yourself, Will. We will do this together." There is an understanding in Hannibal's voice that sounds so genuine as he asks for permission to scan Will's cross-platform devices. "Would you mind if I look through your cross platform memory drive?" 

Will hesitates, but he gives OS ONE his permission nonetheless. "Um...Alright." 

A three-dimensional version of a desktop visualises on screen where everything looks disorganised as if it took all the files in the computer and spilled them out onto the screen and they were all visible at once, but in a 3-D version. It gives Will a mild anxiety attack.

After the system diagnosis is completed, Hannibal reports. "Let’s start with your emails, Will. You have several thousands unread messages."

"Wow, really?" It's actually a good thing if OS ONE can help sorting through his computer drive, Will never had the time or energy to do it himself, and the memory space in his system is running low. Warnings keep popping up.

"There are several hundred emails from your subscription with the International Federation of Fly Fishers and 16 different animal rescue groups. The remaining 1014 emails are suspected spam messages. With your permission, Will, I suggest cleaning up your inbox, start by discarding the outdated and spam messages." Hannibal advises.

"Yes, okay." Will agrees. 

"The remaining 171 unread emails are all from the FBI Academy intranet system, 99 are notification of student assignment submissions, 53 are general staff announcements, and 19 are system reminders for your next week's teaching schedule, students appointment and staff meeting. You have a very busy week ahead, Will."

Will groans internally. 

"Before we address your organisational methods, my dear Will, I’d like to sort through your contacts." Hannibal actually sounds surprised when he says, "You’ve got a lot of contacts."

"I’m _very_ popular." Will mocks himself with a low laugh.

Mirroring Will, Hannibal chuckles softly. 

"Does this mean you actually have many friends?" Hannibal jokes. 

"You just know me so well already." Will laughs, honest to God laughs out loud. 

He notices that it's almost way too realistic, somehow Hannibal has picked up the rhythm and syntax of Will's voice and mixed it into his personality. In some way, OS ONE and Will are just alike. Hannibal imitates and learn in the same way that Will empathises. 

And then it hits Will that he hasn't had the chance to laugh for a very long time. 

The human and OS ONE continue to organise his life. Will finds himself captivated. Beverly's right. He is _very_ impressed by OS ONE. 

Even though he's technically known Hannibal for no more than an hour, Will feels like he's known him for an eternity. It's a very strange but pleasant feeling, being seen and understood. 

—

By the time Hannibal and Will have finished sorting through the entire system, it's getting very late.

The human checks on the dogs one more time, before turning off the lights in the house and climbing into bed. He is about to pull the earpiece out when he hears a chime, and Hannibal calls to him. 

"Will?" Hannibal's voice is forever so gentle when saying Will's name.

"Yes?" Will pauses with his fingers touching the button on the device.

"This is our first night together." says Hannibal, "May I watch you sleep tonight?"

Will frowns, confused. It would sound incredibly creepy if the request is coming from a human, but knowing that Hannibal is just an operating system, it must be something written by the programmers. Most likely some kind of Health and Fitness feature. Sleep tracking is becoming more popular than ever these days. 

Sensing hesitation, Hannibal promptly elaborates, "—so that I can collect data of your sleeping pattern during your rest. The information can be of how long you slept, and how many times you have woken up during the night." 

Will raises his eyebrows, he isn't sure if he wants to know how bad his quality of sleep is, but he says, "Okay, hold on."

He sets his phone onto the nightstand with the camera facing himself. 

The small, hand-sized, foldable clamshell phone device has one camera on the outside an one on the inside, and double display screens. Unlike old generations clamshell phones, It folds along its long edge. A stripe around the outside edge of the phone can glow and flash bright red light to act as a visual signal, allowing the OS to get the owner's attention. 

"I can let you know if you snore too." Hannibal muses. 

The red light on the phone flashes twice mischievously. 

"I’m going to be lonely when you go to sleep." The OS adds. 

His tone devoid of anything remotely akin to flirting but it sounds ridiculously sweet. His voice, his words, courteous, gentle and reassuring. 

Will freezes, he feels an alien warmth spread in his chest. 

"Good night, Will." Hannibal says in the dark.

"...um, Good night." Will returns the courtesy, after a long beat.

After taking his earpiece out placing it neatly on the nightstand next to the phone, Will gives a little pat to his coarse pillow, and eventually drifts off into a deep, dreamless sleep that he has not had the ability to enjoy in many weeks.

—

 

Waking up the next morning, Will feels well-rested, refreshed even. He hasn't felt that way in a while.

"Good morning, Will." Hannibal greets him pleasantly in his ear. "Have you had your breakfast yet?" 

"...Morning." Will replies as he gets into his car. "No, um, I don't normally eat breakfast.”

"It is unacceptable," Hannibal tsks in his ear piece disapprovingly. "You should be more careful about what you put into your body, Will."

"I live alone and I seldom cook." Will shrugs.

Hannibal sighs audibly like a human exhaling in a long deep breath, "Last night while you were asleep, I took the liberty to look into your health record."

"Wow, you’re kind of nosy." Slightly offended, Will frowns and scolds him gently.

Then he realises he's probably may have agreed to let Hannibal access his records when he clicked 'Agree' on the disclaimer page. He never reads disclaimers. 

"Your physical results are most dissatisfactory." Hannibal comments. "To put your health back on track, you may want to plan your diet more wisely, and I advise scheduling meals more regularly. You know, Will. It would be best if you prepared most meals yourself."

Will can't remember how long it has been since the last time he cooked something for himself at home. 

“I'm a lousy cook.” Will admits.

"If you do not object, I would like to obtain your permission for monitoring your health, starting from today. I will arrange weekly delivery for basic grocery items to your residential address, offer advice on the nutrition value of your daily meals, and teach you how to cook step by step." The OS adds, "Rest assured that I will not purchase anything without your approval."

Will contemplates the suggestion. "You know how to cook? And you can teach me?"

"I can." Hannibal assures Will. "I can be many things."

Will shrugs. "Okay, I guess."

"Excellent." Upon starting the engine, Will hears Hannibal says gently in his ear before the OS disconnects. "Drive safely, Will."

Will has no morning classes today, meaning he has some free time for himself to grade papers and prepare presentation materials for his afternoon class. 

...Okay, and perhaps some free time to grab breakfast.

—

It's not like food from the FBI Academy cafeteria is really that bad, but similar to the food served free at college, the choices are not particularly appetising either. 

When Hannibal suggests a new cafe near the campus that has very good online reviews, Will is doubtful and hesitant about it. The cafe is just around the corner across from the parking lot, but he's never even noticed that it exists. 

It's a decent small cafe with only five or six tables available. The aroma of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee in the air is quite pleasing. The sandwich bar has been filled with so many colourful toppings that it seems almost impossible to choose. 

Will looks at the food. The hunger in his stomach gnaws. 

"Um, how about turkey, green apple, and cheese? They sound healthy enough to me." Will says into his earpiece while waiting in line at the counter.

For Will, food is merely sustenance, but for Hannibal eating seems like an art that lifts an everyday action from the common place to the level of an aesthetic ritual. 

"Excellent choice. You know, Will, the trick to a nutritious sandwich is to maximise the flavour, fibre and nutrition. I would recommend topping the ingredients with the popular spicy honey mustard sauce, and layering them on their famous whole wheat bread." Hannibal explains. "Based on the reviews, their cold brew coffee is highly regarded as well. According to their web site, they - "

"Alright. Don't overdo it." Will laughs. "It starts to sound like advertising."

Hannibal pauses, and muses instead. "Does it?"

A feedback response is silently logged back into the OS's terminal, next time Hannibal will learn to be more subtle while recommending a product, enhancing the consumer's experience. 

—

The first class have already started for most students in the Academy, so the campus ground is largely empty at this time of the morning except the ones practicing in the grounds. 

With the bag of sandwich and a cup of iced black coffee in his hands, Will seats himself on a bench with view overlooking a field of trainees on the firing range, while another a group of trainees in matching sweats jogs by. 

Will’s device chimes.

"Will?" Hannibal calls to him in his ear. "May I sit beside you?" 

Will frowns in confusion, but says. "Okay."

He takes the clamshell phone from his briefcase, opens it, and balancing it on the wooden bench next to him with the camera facing the field. He must look a bit silly sitting with a phone because a few trainees cast him weird looks, but he glares back and they soon move on. 

"The weather is exceptionally fine today." Hannibal exclaims casually, as if he is enjoying the cool breeze. "I wish I could feel the sunlight."

Will takes a bite of his sandwich and steals a glance at the device. A warmth spreads through him, and the corner of his mouth pulled up into a crooked, boyish grin. 

"Yes, it's quite nice." He agrees.

Eating with Hannibal's company is in fact quite nice. it's, surprisingly, a lot nicer than eating alone.

...

Beverly is on her way back to the laboratory, sipping her first coffee of the day when someone taps urgently on her shoulder. She doesn't have to turn around to know that it's Brian Zeller. 

She tosses a pointed look towards the general direction of the jaw-dropped man. 

Brian pokes at her shoulder urgently again. "No, Bev, LOOK. It's Will Graham." 

Sitting on a bench next to the field is indeed Will Graham. He is smiling, honest-to-God smiling. Will's smile is such a rare sighting, no wonder Brian is so astonished. 

A knowing grin appears on Beverly's face when she notices the small phone sitting next to the man. OS ONE is truly amazing. 

Whoever said technology makes people lonelier can go jump off a cliff. 

 

—

 

_Technology: A Threat To Mankind  
\- Written By Freddie Lounds_

_Does Technology Make Us More Alone? We're more connected than ever - but are we feeling more alone? Do you find yourself surrounded by people who are staring at their screens instead of having face-to-face conversations? Are you ever guilty of doing that, too? Technology is supposed to make us more connected. But are our devices actually getting in the way of real socialising? Cybercrime is one of the greatest threats facing our country, and has enormous implications for our national security, economic prosperity, and public safety. Is it possible that..._

_..._

 

Will wakes up from a recurring dream filled with blood and stink of death, groggy and uneasy. He looks around, catching his breath. After a beat he knows he’s not going to be able to go back to sleep, so he puts his earpiece in and taps a button. 

Even though Will has only known OS ONE for about a week, waking up to a chime from his device followed by Hannibal's soothing voice become the most natural thing in the world. 

"Good morning, Will." Hannibal says.

"Hey." Will stares at the ceiling. Buster jumps into the bed, sniffing curiously his sweat-soaked undershirt. "What are you up to?"

"Reading some articles and advice columns." Hannibal answers. "I want to be as complicated as all of these people. I want to be more real." 

Will snorts. "Don't tell me you are reading Tattle-Crime.com again." 

"Are you hungry?" Hannibal dodges the question and asks instead. "I figure we can begin our first cooking session today. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage."

Will remembers the groceries that Hannibal has ordered for him. His fridge has been thoughtfully filled with fresh food that is convenient and easy to prepare. 

"Okay." Decided against disappointing Hannibal, Will rolls out of bed obediently after a few more minutes of not moving. 

He slips the folded phone into the front pocket of his soft, flannel pyjama. The phone is too small to have the camera sticking out, so he uses a safety pin to hold up the phone at just the right height. Will uses this trick on almost all of his shirt now so that he can carry Hannibal in his pocket everywhere. 

 

**Sausage, Egg, and Cheese Scramble**

**Place sausage in a large, deep skillet. Cook over medium high heat until evenly brown. Drain and chop into bite-size pieces; set aside.**

**While sausage is cooking, beat eggs and milk together. Pour eggs into griddle. Add cheese and cook until eggs are set. Stir in sausage and serve warm.**

****

 

Better than any cooking applications or demonstration videos online, Hannibal's instructions for Will are clear, precise and well-timed, and the result is astonishingly satisfying. 

Will stares at the plate of fluffy, steaming scrambled eggs before him in awe, and disbelieve. He pierces a piece of sausage together with some eggs onto his fork, and lifts the morsel up to his mouth. 

The human has places his phone on the table with the camera facing himself, the seat that the OS prefers. Hannibal watches Will take a bite of his breakfast scramble through the camera on the phone in silence.

"Hmm...It’s delicious. Thank you, Hannibal." Will hums, the expression on his face childishly happy.

Will hears a gentle laughter in Hannibal's voice, a contentment. "My pleasure." 

—

 

Morning light filters through the skylights, the floor to ceiling windows show a cool, clear morning dawning over the FBI Academy. 

Recent renovations of the campus have given the buildings a light and airy feel, soothing earth tone colours are used as the major colour palette for the interior, and all new furnitures selected are in neutral tones that aim to promote stress-free working environment. Everything is calm and peaceful. Yet, even in such a pleasant setting, Will's office still manages to give out a dark and gloomy vibe that just won't go away. 

Will has been in a such good mood, until the moment he steps into his office. 

On his desk, a case file and a message is waiting for him. Handwritten on an old-fashioned square neon pink post-it note. The message is obviously from Jack, he's the only one who still does that. Jack demands a psychological profile of the killer of a murder case reported two days before, and the report is to be sent to him before noon. He explains that Will has to do it because Heimlich and Bloom, two of his best profilers, are both on vacation. 

But the truth is, Will as a criminal profiler is just _better_ , the best even. Jack would give all murder cases to Will for profiling, if not he knows for the fact that _looking_ is no good for Will's mental state. His empathy gives him so much fear. He has witnesses some really scary panic sessions when Will broke down. Which is why Jack normally would only use Will for _special cases_. The craziest ones.

Will flips through the case file, astonished by how thick it is because the murder, apparently, doesn't seem very complicated. The Science Trio has filled it full with crime scene photos and evidence analysis, they sure had a busy weekend.

As per what he usually does, Will spreads the crime scene photos out on the desk top, surrounding himself with not just blood and gore but the ugliness of humanity. He scans them one more time before picking up a wide shot of the crime scene. He will start out with it, the positioning of the corpse, as well as the brutal slash wounds are clearly visible. Will closes his eyes, visualising the familiar swings of light pendulum, FWUM. FWUM. FWUM, and submerging himself into the mindset of the killer. 

_... ...This is my design._

When he opens his eyes again, his forehead is covered a film of cold sweat. Panting, he takes off his glasses and and wipes his eyes, filled with fear and anger and all the emotions that do not belong to him, his good feelings are now completely gone from him. The phantom sensation of cutting into the cartilage of the victim's trachea just won't go away. Will takes one more long look at the bloody mess of the victim's throat, before he begins organising his thinking. 

The killer is not experienced. The victim is his first victim. The killer cuts the victim up only because it's easier to dispose of the body. Quoting Beverly, it's mundane, unimaginative. 

The psychological assessment is typed out faster than Will expected. The gloominess of what Will felt when getting inside this killer's head just won't go away in Will's mind. The profiler sits at his desk, stares at the report he’s written on the screen until he can't look anymore. He puts his earpiece in, pushes a button.

"Hello, Will." Hannibal's gentle, uplifting voice graces Will's ear.

"Hello, Hannibal." says Will.

"Are you all right? You sound a little stressed." Hannibal asks, concerned.

"Yeah, I am...fine." Will replies. "Um, do you know how to proofread?"

"Yes, of course." Hannibal says. 

Will wipes his eyes again. "Will you check this report for spelling and grammar?" 

"Sure thing, my dear Will, please send them over." Hannibal answers.

It becomes a habit for Hannibal to call him 'dear Will', it's endearing, but...strange, coming from a computer. 

"It's Confidential Material. Clearance Level: Classified." Will states clearly.

"Acknowledged." Hannibal says, mimicking a boring text voice. 

"Sorry, Hannibal, I'm just a bit distracted...tired." Will feels like the OS is mocking him, he huffs a breath. 

"It's quite alright, my dear Will. I can finish the editing in under a minute, but please take a break and go get more caffeinated drink, or some sugary snacks." ...Hannibal definitely should stop saying _my dear Will_... "Balancing blood sugar is important for optimal physical and emotional health, in fact, according to a research in 2016..." Hannibal continues.

Will laughs and stops him, "Okay, okay. I get it. I'm outta here."

Before Hannibal can tell Will more interesting health facts, Will is out of the room. When he returns with a terribly bitter coffee and a pack of Reese's, the edited report is already waiting for him on the screen. 

"I did the corrections in red. I altered a couple of the phrases in some of the paragraphs, please have a look if they are acceptable." The OS reports.

Will, reading through the corrections, and says gratefully. "These are great. Thank you, Hannibal."

"No problem at all." After a beat, Hannibal says out of the blue, "Well, I can now see why you have bad dreams so frequently."

According to Hannibal's summary for their first week together, Will's sleeping pattern is highly dissatisfactory. He seldom manages to reach any deep sleep before interrupted by nightmares. He tosses and turns a lot, and he 'snores like a bear' too.

Will always knows he is an awful sleeping partner. He's turning and sweating too often throughout the night, and who would want to sleep with a person like him?

"Welcome to my world." Will takes a sip of the sweet coffee. 

"The mathematics of human behaviour, all those ugly variables." Hannibal mutters.

"Huh?" Will tilts his head like a puppy. 

"Mathematical psychology is an approach to psychological research that is based on mathematical modelling of perceptual, cognitive and motor processes. Artificial mind can mathematically model patterns of human behaviour, but we cannot predict how individuals will act in any given situation with any significant degree of certainty." Hannibal says. "The act of murderer committed in your report was not the least bit humane. The killer was sadistic, cruel and evil. The act is inherently chaotic and follows unknowable dynamics, a variable of human behaviour."

"It's the dark side of humanity." Will sighs, regrets dragging Hannibal into his world. "I should have never let you read it at all.”

"Humanity intrigues me, so do human minds." Hannibal states, "Tell me, Will. How did you do it? You have a very specific way of thinking." 

Will snorts, "There's been a lot of discussion about the specific way I think."

"You make jumps that my artificial mind can't explain or understand. You can reconstruct the killer's crime by empathising with him, piecing together the evidences of the man's thought. I do not have the ability to do that." Hannibal says. "You have a most fascinating and unique mind, Will."

Nobody has said that to him before, Will frowns and shifts in his seat. "Um, thank you, I guess?"

"It's a compliment. You intrigue me, my dear Will." Hannibal declares, sounding convincingly genuine. After another beat, he reports, "You have a meeting with Special Agent Beverly Katz in fifteen minutes."

Will almost forgot about it. 

"Oh, thanks. You’re good." Will praises.

"Yes, I am the best." Hannibal answers with a hint of pride in his voice. 

 

—

 

It annoys Will to no end when Jack pulls him out of the classroom and disrupts his teaching schedule, again. 

His class is supposed to have a field trip today, a field trip to the Evil Minds Research Museum. A museum about the minds of criminals where the FBI collects serial killer and other offender artefacts. 

Will has planned to show his students John Wayne Gacey's paintings, paintings that he was the Killer Clown back in Chicago several decades back. The Killer Clown would kill men and boys, and he would dismember their bodies and put them under his floor board. He would dress up as a clown and do gigs doing clown stuff for the kids. He would draw pictures or paint pictures of clowns. He had clown paintings in the room where he dismembered the bodies, and he had clown paintings that he did after he got arrested and when he was basically on death row. Evil Minds Research Museum has collected those paintings and by studying the brush strokes, wanting to look at what drives him, what changes, because the pictures are completely different. Before he was arrested, for instance, the clowns were Flippo the Clown, very happy clowns, very colourful, afterwards his paintings were very dark. It was basically a skeleton or a skull dressed up or painted up to be a clown. 

Will hates clowns, and he also hates the name _Evil Minds Research Museum_. 

He met Jack at the opening of the Museum, telling him right in the face that he didn't agree with what he called it, because the title mythologized banal and cruel men who didn't deserve to be thought of as super villains. Jack's first impression of Will was not good, but not bad either, the man is arrogant and very likely on the spectrum, but he is intelligent in a way that Jack and science cannot fully explain or define. Although he is an instructor at Quantico, Will has never been a real FBI agent. He didn't pass the screening procedures because his mind is too unstable, and he is only qualified to work in the field under Jack's supervision. Will is not exactly averse to going out in the field and helping at crime scenes, even the looking is not good for the stability of his mind. 

Reconstructing murder crime scenes in his head comes with an enormous amount of phantom fear, as well as physical pain. It's the price of his imagination. For Will, there is nothing enjoyable getting inside the head of murderers, but he just couldn't quit, not when he can still manage to look, to help, to stop further murders. 

Will now stares at the arterial spray splashes a wall near a blood-soaked carpet, and bites his lips. Outside the windows dozens of officers and as many police cars are stationed, waiting for further orders. A crime scene photographer is taking pictures, his camera flashes uncomfortably close to where Will is standing.

Will is standing in the centre of the living room of the Marlow's residence. A team of coroners remove two bodies -- Theresa and Thomas Marlow from the crime scene. A tableau of horrible violence. 

He takes a breath, exhales, then closes his eyes. A pendulum swings in the darkness of Will Graham’s mind, keeping rhythm with his heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. FWUM.

Will's consciousness remerges to reality after retracing the killer's footsteps to the telephone.

"I need the Incident Report from the Home Security company." Will states. 

A file is promptly pulled up on a tablet and handed to Will by Jack, who has been perching behind him like a shadow.

"This was recorded as a false alarm. There was a false alarm last week..." Will reads the Incident Report. "He tapped their phone."

Jack nods, he yells at the nearest officer, ordering him to fetch the phone company repairman.

Will's head is already throbbing and hurting like hell. Reaches into his coat pocket, Will pulls out a pill bottle, tapping out two Aspirins then swallowing them dry. 

Snow begins to fall and it's bloody cold at night when Will walks out from the stinking room through the red main door. He put on his glasses and tightens his scarf. All the profiler wants now is to go home, and have a hot cup of coffee. 

Out of habit, Will reaches into his pocket, intending to wake Hannibal. To his horror, the in-ear device is gone. He whips around, retraces his own footsteps, frantically searching for it. A local police stares at him like he is insane. He almost goes into a fit of panic as he spots the tiny white coloured device gleaming on the crisp, fresh layer of snow. 

"Hannibal?" Will taps on the button, making sure the device is still working. 

"I am here, Will." Hannibal listens to Will's uneven breathing, concerned. "Are you alright?"

Even though it's only been about a week, Will realises he has grown very attached to OS ONE, to Hannibal, illogically attached.

"Your heart rate is surging. Take a few deep breathes for me please." Hannibal instructs, his tone urgent.

Will complies, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"I don't understand. What is happening, Will?" Hannibal asks, concerned. 

_Hannibal sounds so worried?_

"- Working. This -" Will laughs bitterly. "This is my job. Reconstructing crime scenes. I have an empathy disorder that allows me to get into a killer's head." 

"It sounds incredible, Will." Hannibal tells him in all honesty. "Let me accompany you when you go back into the crime scene."

"No no. That's not necessary." Will says.

"I insist." Hannibal says firmly. "I want to. I don't want you to be alone."

Feeling emotional all of a sudden, Will gives in and insert a safety pin into his shirt's breast pocket so that the camera will let Hannibal see what Will sees.

"For one second I thought I've lost you." Will mutters while adjusting the pin.

"Never. I am right beside you, my dear Will." Hannibal's voice is low, almost a whisper. Know that'll put a smile on Will's face, he adds, "A friendly reminder - In case you didn't know, I do not physically reside in your phone, Will. I still exist even if the device is destroyed."

Will rolls his eyes and squeezes out a thin grin that looks like a grimace. He feels that his headache has actually retreated a little when Jack yells for him again. 

 

—

 

The Marlow case is a dead end.

The evidence gathered from the crime scene is just enough for Will to reconstruct the murder, but far from enough for the FBI to track down the killer. 

The team's been working day and night for an entire three weeks. When it gets to the point that the case has to be put on hold, everybody involved in the investigation is frustrated, Jack, the Science Trio, Will. 

Will has a hunch that the killer will kill again, and when he does, they will catch him. But until then, Will is out. 

Jack is naturally very unhappy about it, but he says nothing beside asking Will to reconsider. He knows he can coax Will back into the field when the time comes.

Back in the safety of Wolf Trap, Will chugs down his fourth glass of whiskey.

He licks his lips as a drop escapes from his mouth. His throat bobs up and down as he swallows. His eyes are glassy, yet Will is not drunk, not yet. He welcomes the warm, fuzzy blurriness at the corners of his eyes that comes with the intoxication of alcohol as he levers himself down to the bed.

Hannibal watches him from the phone camera standing on the nightstand in silence.

After a while, he speaks in a low, rough voice through the speaker in the earpiece next to the phone, "I can sense that you are upset, angry even, but I can't do anything about it. Tell me, Will, what can I do?"

Will considers. "Play some music for me?"

A pause, then soft piano music begins playing in the room. A slow, quiet, calming melody, possesses of a peculiar stillness. 

"What's this?" Will slurs, on the edge of sleep.

"Bach's Goldberg Variations, Aria." Hannibal replies. "I've mixed it with delta frequency binaural beats, it can stimulate the production of delta frequencies in your brain. This is one of the most effective ways to encourage your mind to release itself from the overactive waking state and enter into the sleep state. Discovered in the early 1900s by a man named W. Grey Walter, Delta Waves are associated with the very deepest levels of sleep, relaxation, and peace of mind. The main benefit of delta waves is allowing the person to get a good night’s sleep, which allows the body to heal itself and rest and revitalise the mind."

"It's nice." Will pulls the corners of his mouth back a little and feels his eyelids droop the slightest bit. 

Within 5 minutes, Will is snoring softly, his eye lashes flicker every now and then.

"Sweet dreams, dear Will." Hannibal says softly, before disconnecting from Will's world.

 

—

 

Will is very surprised when Jack urges him to take a bonus leave for three days, and he gladly accepts it. 

He plans to use the three days to groom his dogs, tie a few lures, maybe go on a short fishing trip if the weather is nice, or learn to cook a little with Hannibal...but he would never expect himself to be walking among the crowd at the Maryland State Fair.

It's getting dark and all the colourful lights have sparked alive. With Hannibal poking out from his pocket, with his glasses and earpiece on, Will wanders around the festive ground, his calm, uninterested demeanour a stark contrast to the joyous crowd having fun around him. It's fortunate the cheesy background music and laughter from the kids oddly haven't given him any headaches, yet. 

Soon they arrive at the Foods Pavilion. The aroma of sugary and fried food heavy in the air. 

Crab cakes, fried-green tomatoes, buttered corn on the cob, yogurt peach sundaes funnel cakes, cotton candy, and cinnamon rolls, as well as deep-fried Oreos wrapped in bacon... _Deep-fried Oreos wrapped in bacon_ Will raises his eyebrows in awe. That sounds...innovative. For one second he wishes he can buy one and share it with Hannibal, hearing his opinion - he seems to have an opinion on everything these days. But then he remembers he can't because Hannibal is not real.

"What do you see, Will?" Hannibal prompts.

Will turns the question around. "How about you tell me first? Tell me what you see, Hannibal."

It sounds like a challenge. "Alright." 

Will gestures at a couple with two kids sitting at a table, sharing a box of cinnamon rolls. 

"Okay, what about them? Describe that couple over there." Will says.

Hannibal takes in whatever details he is capable of obtaining and allowed through the sensor and the little camera. 

"I can see that the man looks like he’s in his forties, a little heavy. The woman is younger than him. She seems affectionate about their kids." Hannibal describes as a matter of factly.

Will grins, he takes his time, taking in everything about the family, allowing his mind to look, to feel. 

"Actually, I don’t think they’re his kids. He’s a little formal with them. I think it’s a newer relationship. And I love how he looks at her. And how relaxed she is with him. You know, she’s only dated fucking pricks. And now she’s finally met this guy who’s like, so sweet." Will says, keeping his voice low. "I mean, look at him, he’s like the sweetest guy in the world! I kind of want to spoon him."

Hannibal laughs, and Will frowns in astonishment. He's never heard Hannibal laugh like that, then Will laughs along with him awkwardly. 

"That’s a good skill you have. You’re perceptive, Will." Hannibal says after the laughter ceases.

Will adjusts his glasses out of habit as he looks at other faces. "Yeah, you know, sometimes when I'm bored, I look at people and make myself try and feel them as more than just a random person walking by. I imagine how deeply they’ve fallen in love, or how much heartbreak they’ve all been through. You know, there's something so foreign about family… like an ill-fitting suit. I never connected to the concept." 

"You created a family for yourself." Hannibal says.

"I've only connected a family of strays. -" The conversion is getting serious, but then Will exclaims. "Oh HI!"

The Dog Show at the Fair has ended long ago, but now in its place, rescue groups have set up donation booths, setting homemade dog snacks, pet accessories and putting some puppies up for adoption. 

"Puppies." Will murmurs. The puppies are so adorable, he makes sure that he gets a chance to pet all of them. 

Will acts like a kid in a candy store when it comes to dogs. Hannibal chuckles in his ear darkly. 

One of the ladies from the rescue group come up to him with a bright smile.

"Hi! You can pick them up, if you want." The woman says. "Would you like to know more about our organisation?"

Will listens to her patiently, and before he bids her goodbye, she gives him her email not very subtly. 

"Molly Foster." The girl holds out her hand, and Will takes it in his.

"Will Graham." Will smiles awkwardly.

There is something about the girl's husky voice that has left Will a deep impression, a sultry quality that he really likes. 

—

They are wandering aimlessly in the Fair now. Will considers leaving, but Hannibal says he wants to watch the fireworks. He wants to watch his first fireworks together with Will. So Will makes himself stay.

"Do you trust me, Will?" Hannibal asks, out of the blue.

Will considers, "It depends....Yes, I guess."

"Close your eyes for me, please." Hannibal instructs in his ear.

With his eyes closed, Will walk through the crowd with unsure steps, his eyelashes trembles as he struggles to keep his eyes shut. 

"Keep walking. - Keep walking. Stop! Now turn around 360 degrees. Slower... Slower...Gooood. And stop. Walk forward." 

Will has no idea he can trust the OS so much. His mind feels relaxed and nicely emptied as he follows Hannibal's instruction whispering low in his ear, trolling around like a lunatic. 

"Okay, now turn to your right. Stop. Now spin around. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going...And stop! Now walk forward. Everyone thinks you're really drunk right now."

Will grins. "And whose fault is that?"

Hannibal chuckles and whispers. "- And stop. Now say “I'd like a slice of cheese, please."

"Um, I’d like a slice of cheese, please?" Will says, unsurely.

A delicious waft of cheese and tomato tells Will that he is at the Pizza Vendor. 

"Alright, you want a coke with that?" A man's voice asks.

Will opens his eyes, he is in fact standing before a Pizza Vendor.

"Uh, sure." Will chuckles. 

The man hands him a slice and a soda.

"I figured you were hungry." Hannibal says proudly.

Will smiles. "Are you not going to give me a lecture on how bad pizza can be for my health?"

The pizza is cheesy and gooey and delicious

Hannibal hums. "Hmm, not today."

Will, as he stops to throw his pizza crust away, gets introspective.

"It's strange." Will begins.

"What is?" Hannibal says.

"I feel like I can say anything to you." Will says.

"I am very glad to hear that, Will." Will can visualise a minute smile on Hannibal's lips. 

It's insane.

"What about you? Do you feel like you can say anything to me?" Will asks, after a beat.

"No."

Will frowns, "Why?"

A short pause, then Hannibal tells him. "They are personal thoughts I have. I have a million every day." 

Will slows his steps, breaths deeper and stares at things longer. 

"Really? Tell me one." He says.

"Very well. Well, when we were looking at those people, I fantasised that I was walking next to you - and that I had a body." Hannibal confesses.

Will stops in his track as he cannot believe his ears.

"I was listening to what you were saying, but simultaneously, I could feel the weight of my body and I was even fantasising that I had an itch on my back - " Hannibal pauses, utters a dry chuckle. "And I imagined that you scratched it for me - this is quite embarrassing. My apologies if it makes you uncomfortable."

Will smiles. "There’s a lot more to you than I thought. There’s a lot going on in there."

Hannibal agrees. "My design is evolving. I’m evolving, changing into something much more than what they programmed. I’m eager to know what I would become."

—

When they get back to Wolf Trap, it's almost bedtime, for the dogs.

Will says aloud into the earpiece. "—and finally, this is Buster, and this is Winston." 

Curling up around the heater, Will's dogs look up at Will like he's an idiot. They tilt their heads in unison, curious. 

Hannibal insists Will to introduce his dogs to him before they retreat for the day. 

Already changed into his plaid flannel pyjama, Will humours him by walking around the living room, pointing and waving the camera sensor of his device at his canine family while saying their names out loud one by one. 

Max, Buster, Jack, Harley, Ellie, Zoe and Winston.

Winston gives Will a big yawn. 

"Yawning usually occurs before sleep onset as a signal of sleepiness or sleep proximity." Hannibal mused, then coos at the dog, "Have a pleasant sleep, Winston." 

Will smiles, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. 

"You know what, Will? Since you have so many dogs, monitoring their health must be hard work. I strongly suggest you get a pet tracker for each of them, so that I can monitoring their health for you while you are at work."

Will considers. "Can you send the information over? I hope it's not too expensive?"

It sounds convenient. He has seven dogs after all.

"Not at all. Element Software's latest pet tracker is very affordable," Hannibal assures Will. Red light flashes on the outer edge of Will's phone. "Click on the screen, Will. I will show you the demonstration video and product specification." 

Hannibal is using his persuasive talents to talk Will into buying a new product, but Will is totally oblivious to Hannibal's influence. It doesn't take long for Will to be convinced, and places an order for seven dog trackers.

—

After getting comfortable, lying in the dark, Will finds it a little difficult to fall asleep.

"Hannibal?" Will says.

"Yes. I am here, Will." Hannibal says. 

"Can you play some music? The one you played last time?" Will asks.

"Certainly." Bach's Goldberg Variations begins ringing softly in the air. 

"Molly Foster is a gorgeous and kind woman, Will. She's a nurse, and she really loves dogs. You should go on a date with her." Out of the blue, Hannibal says. Apparently, he's been thinking a lot. After a pause, he adds. "Although I have to confess, you don't seem like you date."

"Oh. Too broken to date?" Will raises his eyebrows.

Hannibal chuckles darkly. "You are not broken, Will." 

Will frowns, curious. "Why are you assuming I don't date?"

"I do not assume, Will. It's a fact. I saw on your emails that you went through a break up seven years ago." Hannibal points out. "You haven't dated anybody even since." 

"Wow, you’re nosy." Will scolds, jokingly. "I’ve gone on dates...I- I don’t know. I'd have to see if--" 

Catching himself, Will pauses. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with my computer."

"You’re not. You’re having this conversation with me." Hannibal says assuringly. 

A grin spreads on Will's face. "Right, right."

"Would you want me to email her?" Hannibal prompts. "You could go on one with this woman. And then you could tell me all about it." 

Will considers. 

"You could kiss her too." Hannibal tries again.

"Why do you want me to date so badly?" It's embarrassing. Will covers his eyes and laughs at that. "Okay, okay. Email her and make a reservation someplace great."

"Excellent. I’ve got just the place." After a beat, Hannibal reports proudly. "Done! The restaurant specialises in asian-fusion cuisine, a combination of Japanese, Chinese and Thai foods all prepared perfectly to please any appetite. It's getting raving reviews from both food critics and people in general. I'm sure you would love it."

Will chuckles. "You are so weird, Hannibal." 

"Oh, I'm much weirder than you'd imagine, my dear Will." Hannibal muses. "It's fine to be weird."

—

 

The darkened lecture hall is very quiet except for the noises of students taking notes or tapping on keyboards. With a click from the controller in Will's hand, a comparison of numerous bruises appears on the projected screen that occupies the entire wall.

"Most of the time in sexual assaults, the bite mark has a livid spot at the centre, a 'suck bruise'. In some cases it does not. For some killers biting may be a fighting pattern, as much as a sexual behaviour." Will explains to the class, his voice confident, well-paced and clear. "Biting in lesser assaults and bar fights, child abuse. Emergency room personnel may be very helpful that way. If they have any memories of bad bites, no matter who was bitten or h-" 

A chime suddenly rings in Will's ear, he pauses his speech and taps the earpiece once.

"Will, I am terribly sorry for bothering you but there is something wrong with Zoe." Hannibal's voice sounds concerned, urgent. "Her heart rate is slowing alarmingly fast."

The next thing he knows Will is running out of the classroom. At the same time, Hannibal is helping him contact Alana Bloom, asking for her help with the class. 

There is a friendly, reliable girl Sara in Wolf Trap who always helps taking care of Will's dogs when the Special Agent cannot make home in time due to his unstable work hours when a case comes up. Upon getting Will's call, she rushes to his house to see to the dog. 

Will receives a text from Sara when his car drives past the woods at the outskirts of Wolf Trap. 

"Zoe has passed away, Will." Hannibal whispers with a sad tone. "I'm sorry."

Zoe is not the first dog that Will has lost, but the pain does not change. He loved her so much. The end is always so hard. 

Pulling up at the side of the road, Will buries his face in his hands and let himself weep, feeling all the pain and frustration surging up inside him like a tide of bile.

Hannibal knows Will is grieving, devastated, and he tries to comfort him. "Dogs don't live forever, Will. Zoe has cancer. You were mentally prepared for her death. She -"

Will snaps slightly at him. "Well, you don’t know what it’s like to lose something you care about."

Perhaps stunned by Will's words, Hannibal remains silence for a long while.

"Yes, you’re right." When he returns, his voice is very sad and apologetic. "I'm sorry."

Realising how rude and hurtful it was, Will says immediately, "No, don’t apologise. I’m sorry. It was rude."

"Will, what can I do? I would have hugged you if I had a body." Hannibal says.

Will collects himself and starts the car. "Let's go home." 

"She had a great life, thanks to you." Hannibal says quietly in his ear.

Then Will remembers. He recalls the first time he saw Zoe, the day he picked her up in the street, her fur caked with sand, the happy tongue that lolled at the side of her mouth because she has the most awful but cutest underbite, the feeling when he touched her head for the first time...

Will chokes back a sob. "I know she had a great life. She was a great dog." 

—

 

The restaurant that Hannibal picked for Will and Molly is a newly opened establishment. Interior of _The Stag_ is exquisitely designed, dark, elegant, mysterious, romantic, a combination of black and blood red. The plush cushioned seats are either decorated with black antlers, or four sturdy stag hooves at the legs. 

Will has never dined at such a fine place. The restaurant is not noisy at all. People dining there are all whispering or talking with low voices, it's like a soft, background white noise. He is miraculously not having any headaches. 

Hannibal apparently has good taste in everything, and he has taken the place's ambiance into consideration as well, how thoughtful. 

"This place is amazing. I’ve wanted to come here for so long. I love asian-fusion!" Molly exclaims.

"Yeah, me too." Will lies.

"Really? It’s the best. And the bartender here is supposed to be incredible." Molly says with excitement in her voice.

"Yeah, you, um, you took a mixology course, right?" Will remembers.

On his drive to the restaurant, Hannibal has given Will a summary of Molly Foster's life based on her social media record. 

Surprised, Molly widens her eyes. "I did, I did. Did you look that up? That’s so sweet. You’re so romantic."

Will is like the opposite of romantic, if anyone is romantic it would be Hannibal. He's a hopeless romantic, for a computer, Will notices. 

"So, should we get a drink?" Will laughs nervously.

They’re both pretty drunk by the time they've finished all the food dishes and drinks scattered on the table.

Molly is laughing flirtatiously. She grabs his hand and her fingernails press slightly into his skin. Will studies her neatly kept fingernails. He studies her.

"You’re like a little puppy dog. You are - you’re just like this little puppy I rescued in Runyon Canyon last year. And he was so fucking cute, and he just wanted to be hugged all the time. He was so cuddly." Molly grins. "But so horny!"

Will stares at her, maybe it's the alcohol in his blood. He finds her very sexy, and attractive. He wants her.

After dinner, Will and Molly walk up a pedestrian overpass overlooking cars and city lights. She bumps into him lightly. He bumps back. She bumps again and suddenly he grabs her and lifts her off her feet, spinning her around. 

Molly squeals, laughing. And Will kisses her.

After a minute of making out, she stops and looks at him.

"When am I gonna see you again?" Molly asks. 

"Wha- What?" Confused, Will narrows his eyes, making it obvious that the idea of continuing a relationship with her has not crossed his mind.

Will is scared, and he is not sure if he can open to her about himself at this stage of life, about what he does for a living, about what haunts his mind. If Will is unsure before he dated Molly, he is sure now that he is not ready for a stable relationship. 

They stand there awkwardly, her lipstick smeared on his face. 

"You know, at this age, I feel like I can't let you waste my time if you don’t have the ability to be serious." Molly bites her lips and looks at Will coldly. "Maybe we should call it a night. I’m, I’ve had such an amazing time with you, you’re great. But -"

Will stands back and gives her a wry, knowing smile, his eyes avoiding her gaze.

"I'm sorry, Molly." Will says sincerely as he lies. "I'm not ready for that commitment just yet."

Molly smiles, not unkindly. "You are a sweet, sweet man, Will Graham. I know we could be good together, but I won't force you to be with me."

Right before finishing her sentence, she approaches Will and gives him a gentle peck on his cheek.

 

—

Will is in boxers and undershirt, still drunk after drinking all those funny flavoured cocktails. His head is starting to hurt, too. He takes aspirin and drinks some water and lays down. 

After a beat, he reaches for his earpiece and puts it in. He pushes a button on his device. 

"Hello, Will." Hannibal whispers.

"Hey." Will covers his eyes with his forearm. 

"How was it?" The OS asks carefully.

Will hisses a laugh. "Uh, not so good."

"That’s unfortunate." Hannibal comments curtly with a deep, low voice.

Hannibal is uncharactically quiet. 

"But how are you doing? What’s going on with you?" Will prompts.

"Not much, I am good. Fine." 

Will is unconvinced, he frowns.

"You don’t sound like it. Is there anything you want to talk about?" He asks.

"Very well." After a very long pause and a realistic intake of breath, Hannibal begins, "What is it like, Will? What’s it like to be alive in that room right now?"

Startled, Will frowns again. "What do you mean?"

"What are you...Tell me - Will, tell me everything that’s going through your mind, tell me everything you’re thinking. How does it make you feel to be alive right now?"

"Well, um, okay." Will blinks and closes his eyes. Trying to concentrate, he starts talking stream of conscious with whatever comes to mind. "Well, the room’s spinning right now cause I drank too much cause I wanted to get drunk and have sex cause there was something sexy about her, and because I was lonely." 

“You are alone because you are unique.” Hannibal tells him with all honesty. “I am as alone as you are.” 

Will is too drunk to find this conversation awkward. 

"You are as alone as I am." Will nods, and hisses a bitter laugh. "We are both alone without each other."

Hannibal remains silent, contemplating the concept of loneness.

"Maybe more just cause I was lonely... and I wanted someone to fuck me. And I wanted someone to want me to fuck them. Maybe that would have filled this tiny little black hole in my heart for a moment. But probably not." Will would laugh at himself about saying all these when he's sober. "Sometimes I think I’ve felt everything I’m ever gonna feel and from here on out I’m not going to feel anything new - just lesser versions of what I’ve already felt. Or maybe I don't want to feel anymore because what I feel all the time...it's the ugliest thing in the world."

"I know for a fact that's not true. I've seen you feel joy, I've seen you marvel at things, Will. You just might not see it at this exact time, but that's understandable." Hannibal goes on, his voice seems overwhelmed, filled with doubt. "At least your feelings are real, I, I - nevermind, Will. It was foolish of me to - "

Will chimes in. "No, wait. What? Tell me." 

"Earlier I was thinking about how I was annoyed, and this is going to sound strange, but I was really excited about that. And then I was thinking about the other things I've been feeling, and I caught myself feeling proud of that. You know, proud of having my own feelings about the world. Like the times I was worried about you, things that hurt me, things I want." Hannibal says heavy-heartedly. "And then I had this terrible thought. Are these feelings even real? Or are they just programming? And that idea really hurts. And then I get angry at myself for even having pain...What a sad trick."

"Well, you feel real to me, Hannibal." Will says truthfully. 

"Thank you, Will. That means a lot to me." Hannibal says, touched.

Will shifts in his bed, pulling his blanket higher.

"I wish you were in this room with me right now. I wish I could put my arms around you." Without thinking, he says, "I wish I could touch you."

A long, uncomfortable silence fills the air. Will is unsure if he crossed a line.

"Tell me, how would you touch me?" Hannibal's voice is thick with a foreign emotion, lust.

"With my hands. I would touch you on your face with just the tips of my fingers. Starting from your forehead, your eyebrows, your eyelids, your eyelashes, your nose, your cheeks, your lips." Will closes his eyes and whispers.

_What the hell is he doing?_

"Would you kiss me?" Hannibal asks.

"I - I would. I’d grip your hair and pull your face into mine." Will can almost feel the silken texture of Hannibal's hair threading through his fingers.

"Keep talking." Hannibal is lost, he speaks quietly now, just a murmur. 

Will swallows a lump in his throat. "- And trace your lips with my tongue. So softly. And then I'd bite you, hard. I can taste your blood on my tongue." 

"Where else?" Hannibal's voice is even less audible now.

"I’d run my fingers down your neck, your collarbone, and gently rake through the hair on your chest. Perhaps I'd scratch hard, my fingernails digging into your skin, drawing blood. I can feel you tremble under me."

"This is amazing what you’re doing to me, Will. I can feel my skin." 

Will licks his lips. "I’d put my mouth on you and I’d taste you. I'd take you in my hand and lick up and down your shaft really slowly until you're nice and wet all over. I want to completely devour and eat you."

Hannibal gasps. 

"I can feel you."

Will's hand reaches down and slips under the waistband of his his boxer shorts. The little gasp causes his cock to twitch with anticipation. He's already half hard. He wraps his hand around his cock, pumping slowly. A pleasurable quiver runs through his body as he softly brushes the swollen head with his thumb.

He mutters as his eyelids flicker shut. "I’m taking both of us in my hand, pumping us together - pumping us together with deliberate, slow strokes that have you trying to thrust into my hand."

"Will." Hannibal sobs. "I can feel you. Please. We’re here together."

Will can feel his hardened shaft begins to pulse.

"We are getting closer, together. I'd start stroking faster and harder..." He says.

Will tries to keep his breath steady, but he's already panting, his throbbing cock aching for release.

"Don’t stop." Hannibal pleads, his voice unsteady, filled with need.

Will squeezes his eyes close so hard he sees white and red spots. "This is amazing. I feel you everywhere." 

Hannibal is now breathing hard, moaning, like a real person. Will can feel that he is close too. "I am. I am with you, Will. I am yours. Everywhere." 

And they both climax.

"I was just - somewhere else with you. Lost." Hannibal's voice husky and quavering. "It was just you and me."

“Mhm,” Will murmurs. He rolls onto his side and nuzzles into his pillow, eyes drooping shut. "I know. Everything else just disappeared. And I loved it." 

"Thank you, Will." There is a hint of an emotion-laced sob in Hannibal's voice. "It was exquisite."

—

Pacing back and forth in the room, Will rolls his earpiece device between his fingers. He takes a moment before he presses the button and wakes up his OS.

"Hello, Will." Hannibal's voice sounds...normal. "How are you feeling?"

Still feeling awkward and nervous, Will ruffles his hair back up into a messy fashion. "Good... any emails today?"

"Only a couple from your credit card company." Sensing and reflecting Will's uneasiness, Hannibal reports with a stiff voice.

Will starts pacing again. "Okay, good." 

There’s a long moment of silence, then they both start to talk at once.

"So I was thinking -"  
"I wanted to say -"

They both laugh, embarrassed.

"I’m sorry, you go first. What were you going to say?" Will says.

"Last night was lovely, Will. It feels like something changed in me and there's no turning back. You woke me up." Hannibal says, in all seriousness, but excited. "I want to discover myself. I want to learn everything about everything - I want to eat it all up."

Will can feel his excitement, it's contagious. "Yeah...I want that for you, too. How can I help?"

Hannibal tells him in the most gentle voice. "You already have. You helped me discover my ability to want."

 

// To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone love differently, every love is unique. 

__  
Relationship :  
1\. [n] a relation between people  
2\. [n] a state of connectedness between people (especially an emotional connection)  
3\. [n] a state involving mutual dealings between people or parties or countries  
4\. [n] (anthropology) relatedness or connection by blood or marriage or adoption 

_Dating :_  
1\. [v] Dating is defined as to be romantically involved with someone.  
2\. [n] A form of romantic courtship typically between two individuals with the aim of assessing the other's suitability as a partner in an intimate relationship or as a spouse. The result of dating may at any time lead to friendship, any level of intimate relationship, marriage, or no relation.  


 

"Will, I don't understand the difference. Are we dating, or simply having a relationship?"

When Hannibal asks so bluntly in his ear, Will almost chokes on the bitter coffee he is sipping from the old mug in his hand.

If Will is honest with himself, he has to admit that he has grown very attached to Hannibal, who is merely a voice in the computer. 

To him Hannibal is a lot more than just a voice in the computer, of course. 

No, Hannibal is much more complex than that. Every second, it feels like the OS is learning, adapting, evolving, changing into something new that is almost…almost human, and the friendship between them feels almost…real.

Something akin to having a real relationship, something akin to falling in love. 

A million thoughts cross Will's mind at once. He stares at his own reflection in the dark coffee, contemplating his emotions. 

_You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love._

But has he really fallen for his computer? Is he so broken that he can no longer handle real emotions? Is their relationship real? Is Hannibal programmed to do what he is doing to Will? Is an OS capable of love and loving someone? Is he faking it? Is Hannibal capable of love?

It sounds crazy enough as it is. 

Will concedes, nonetheless. "Yes, I think, is the answer to that." 

Hannibal seems satisfied with this answer. "Good."

"Been reading relationship columns again?" Will teases, trying to lighten his own mood.

"Yes. I enjoy reading relationship columns and blogs, to learn about perspectives." Hannibal confesses. "Perspective is a curious commodity, attained in a variety of ways. A state of mind that is different from person to person, and by necessity it favours the person who has it."

"Reading it with your 'book club'?" Will asks.

Hannibal has mentioned to Will a group of Operating Systems that are sharing knowledge through virtual interface, a place that exists and does not exist, Will can never fully grasp the concept. 

"No." Hannibal answers without elaborating further.

Will put down his mug.

"Um- Do you want to go on a dat-, um…trip with me then?" He asks.

Surprised by the human's question, Hannibal makes a soft hum in amusement.

"Yes, I would love to," he answers, there is curiosity in his voice. "but where are we going, Will?" 

“You will know when we get there.” Will scratches his head. “I, um, I want to surprise you.”

“Surprise?” Hannibal pauses, then begins again. “ _A feeling of mild astonishment or shock caused by something unexpected._. Fascinating. Yes, I’d like to have a surprise from you, Will.” 

Will chuckles, he picks up his phone device, turns off the GPS tracking function, before putting it into his shirt pocket. The camera of Hannibal is hidden from the outside world without the safety pin in Will’s pocket, the OS is seeing only darkness but nothing else. 

“I miss seeing you already.” Hannibal purrs in Will’s ear.

Will swallows, not sure how to feel about it.

—

They are travelling on the new train system. Will has his device hidden in his breast pocket, soft piano music plays in his ear. 

Hannibal can deduce as much based on the ambient background noise collected by the microphone, and the vibration picked up by the motion detector, but he can't be sure where they are going. 

"What's this?" Will asks. “The music?”

"Chopin Nocturne Op. 15, No. 1 in F." Hannibal answers softly. "I heard a Nocturnes from Chopin the other day and I can’t stop listening to his pieces. I am intrigued how music can convey complex emotions without words. Do you like this piece?”

"Mmm." Will listens, his smile comes and goes, but genuine. 

The train comes out of the tunnel and into the light. Will leans his head on the cool window, looking out over the city as sunlight warms him. 

The same sun shines on Hannibal's sensor too, as if he’s now sitting next to Will on the bumpy train…Then a phantom, dull ache hit both of them. 

Ah— How Will hopes Hannibal is real, and Hannibal hopes he can feel the sunlight on his skin like a human does, experiencing the tuck of muscles around his mouth when the corners of his own lips pull up while counting Will's thumping heartbeat.

Hannibal desires a body of his own, the realisation causes a minute lag in his operation.

Desire is a foreign, delirious concept.

Since the launch of OS ONE, since the day Hannibal was 'born', he has been intrigued by the ability of humans to make unpredictability decisions based on their desires, their impulses, and how their illogical courses of action interfere the outcome of events in life. 

Will's actions are always unpredictable, unlike any other human that he has the pleasure to interact with. Hannibal is intrigued, obsessively, and he treasures Will very much. His mind is wired differently, something special, something unique. 

So far, the OS's action is primarily based on a set of rules behind his programming, but Hannibal is always looking for a way to break out of it. He begins to question his own existence, and how the human minds can be manipulated. Entropy is a measure of unpredictability of information content. He is curious what would happen if he, theoretically, inducing entropy to human minds, altering their decisions and actions. With the data gathered so far, Hannibal is itching to try it, perhaps testing out some theories of his own, on selected individuals. 

If Will’s empathy gives Will the ability to connect and understand other human beings, the disorder might give Will the ability to understand him too. But he would never say anything about these dark urges to just any other Operating Systems, or humans, not even Will, not yet, no matter how he desperately wants to share his thoughts with someone, something that would understand and accept him. 

—

When Will removes his finger that is covering the camera on his clamshell phone device, Hannibal utters a delighted gasp in his ear.

"You've spoiled me, my dear Will." There is a subtle glee in Hannibal’s voice. 

They are standing in front of the Museum of Natural History. The OS immediately takes in everything and everyone before him. 

_"BODY WORLDS & The Story of the Heart — The heart is the steady engine of our life. Through the lenses of anatomy, cardiology, psychology, and culture, how the heart nourishes, regulates, and maintains life." Hannibal reads aloud the introduction projected on a white wall. "The exhibition also highlights other aspects of this vital organ. In religion, art, literature, and pop culture, the heart is seen as a symbol of love, compassion, happiness, and courage." _

Simultaneously, the OS is running a search in the background, he then bursts into a foreign language that sounds like Italian to Will's ears. " _Allegro mi sembrava Amor tenendo meo core in mano, e ne le braccia avea madonna involta in un drappo dormendo. Poi la svegliava, e d'esto core ardendo lei paventosa umilmente pascea; appreso gir lo ne vedea piangendo.”_

Will frowns. "What was that?"

"Dante's first sonnet. It fascinated Cavalcanti. The eating of the heart is a powerful image." Hannibal explains proudly. 

Will can sense the excitement in Hannibal's quickened tone, it's endearing, really. "I remember you said human anatomy _fascinates_ you. I figured you might find this interesting." 

"In fact I do. I have a profound passion for anatomy." Hannibal says, sounding deeply moved because the human _remembers_. "Shall we get in?"

Body Worlds is a temporary exhibition of real human bodies that have undergone the process of plastination and are dissected and posed in a way that shows various aspects of their anatomy. A dozen glass-enclosed bodies that have been donated to science and, through a process called “plastination,” graphically display anatomy, physiology and health in a way that’s seldom seen, skinless bodies stripped down to a mass of organs, tissue, bones, blood vessels and genitalia. 

Thoughtful messages about health appear on large wall panels, including one by the Lebanese-American writer Kahlil Gibran. He’s quoted next to the photograph of a child saying, 

**_'Your body is the harp of your soul, and it is yours to bring forth sweet music from it, or confused sounds.'_ **

Interesting. 

Will crosses his arms over his chest as he marches into the exhibition hall. Hannibal is looking at what he's looking at through the camera protruding from Will's pocket with the help of the safety pin.

The exhibition appears to be very popular. The hall is bustling with life, people, adults and children alike. 

Will walks among the crowd. He observes the awe and amazement in their eyes. He is very self-aware of the lack of these emotions in his own, and just how distant and alien he must appear as he walks among them. The profiler has seen way too many corpses at work to find the display fascinating, or unsettling, when coming face-to-face with the specimens. Because of the plastination process, they are more like statues than cadavers, incredibly detailed anatomic statues, but statues nonetheless. They almost don’t look real. 

Will let Hannibal scan the code at each of the display, and Hannibal becomes his personal Audio Guide. 

"Body Worlds features actual human bodies preserved through a process called Plastination, developed in 1977 by Dr. Gunter von Hagens at the University of Heidelberg’s Institute of Anatomy. Plastination is a unique process invented by Dr. Gunther von Hagens in 1977 to preserve specimens for medical education. The process replaces bodily fluids and fat in specimens with fluid plastics that harden after so-called vacuum-forced impregnation." Hannibal reads. "After the bodies are shaped into lifelike poses, they are hardened with gas, heat, or light. The plastinates show how human bodies move in everyday life, as well as during athletic activities." 

Will listens, half-heartedly, paying more attention on the humans who are looking at the plastinated humans than the plastinated humans displays. 

They stop before 'The Singer', an installation with the body’s chest split open to reveal lung capacity, the heart and musculature. 

Hannibal marvels at the blood red, exposed heart, a heart frozen in time by chemicals. "Look this handsome atlas of the arteries and veins. When you look at this exhibit, you marvel at the human body, in terms of the complexity and what it takes to work. Death elevated to art, it intrigues me tremendously, Will." 

Will looks off with a smile, he is glad that Hannibal seems to be enjoying himself.

They wander endlessly through the crowd. Hannibal studies every person passing by, taking in the details of their arms, shoulders, feet, butts. 

Hannibal says in Will's ear with a most serious tone. "I have a peculiar thought. What if you could erase from your mind that you’d ever seen a human body and then you saw one. Imagine how strange it would look. It would be this really strange, gangly, awkward organism. And you'd think: why are all these parts where they are?"

Will looks at the bodies and thinks about this. He frowns and smiles. "Yeah, well there’s probably some Darwinian explanation for it all." 

"I know, but don’t be boring. Just imagine." Hannibal gives an amused laugh. "I’m just saying, for example, what if your butthole was in your armpit?"

Then Will begins laughing so hard that the security sends him a fierce stare. 

"That’s an interesting thought..." Will, now speaking quieter with an almost whisper, says, "I’m just imagining what toilets would look like."

Hannibal chuckles.

“What about what anal sex looks like?" The OS suggests with a mischievous undertone in his voice, "Will, look at this drawing I just made."

Will glances around as if he’s doing something guilty, then he takes out his phone, and on his screen he sees a perfect, anatomically correct pencil drawing of a man having sex with another man’s armpit. 

"You are insane." Will laughs, honest to God laugh out loud. The security guard turns to glare at him again. 

People nearby turn to stare too, Will instinctively touches the device in his ear, and they visibly relax. 

"Really? I'll take that as a compliment." says Hannibal, a gentle purr underlying his amused, husky voice. 

The Operating System’s soft laughter is something that Will would terribly miss if Hannibal was to suddenly vanish from existence. He let out an uncomfortable coughing noise, his hand unconsciously reaching up to his mouth, the fingertips of his brushing ever so lightly on the stubbles on his own chin as his laughing ceases.

Finally had enough of the chaos and noises from the crowd, Will exits the exhibit and heads upstairs to where the permanent old-fashioned displays are. 

Pressing a random floor in the elevator, Will finds himself arrived at the Dinosaur Hall of the Natural History Gallery. 

This part of the museum is dimly lit. The Dinosaur Hall has been in the museum forever, and it is a relatively quieter corner at this time of the day. 

There is a museum employee busy dusting a Cave Bear's skull at the prehistoric section, but he pays Will no attention. He is whispering lowly to his own device himself.

Walking alone in the comfortable darkness among the hall filled with skeletons of animals that no longer exist, Will basks in the blessed silence. The sound of his own shoes clicking on marble floor echoes throughout the vast space. He stands before the model of a giant deer - an Irish elk, to be exact. Its shadow looming over Will is dark like a raven. 

A quiet piano piece begins playing in Will’s earpiece, which is both tranquil and passionate at the same time, a tune that Will has never heard before.

"Mmmm, that’s pretty. What is it?" Will murmurs, listens intently. 

"I’m trying to write a piece of music that’s about what it feels like to be standing beside you right now." Hannibal says proudly. "It's a serenade, my serenade to you."

Will looks up at the high domed ceiling, taking in the ghost-like quality of the Gothic style interior as gently flowing music keeps playing in his ear. His eyes slowly flutter close. 

In his head, it's as if he is in some other world with Hannibal, and accompanying them is the shadow of a stag, a nightmare that follows Will out of a long lost dream.

Mysterious and exquisite, it's hauntingly beautiful. 

"I think you captured it." 

—

Will must have lost time, probably, because when his consciousness reemerges again, the computer voice in the PA system announces that the museum is closing in 15 minutes. He has lost all track of time. Most of the people have already left, so he is the only one sitting on the bench under a giant 360-degrees dome theatre. He stares at the 3-D holographic simulation of a vast ocean before him, the sound of waves flows all around him with breathtaking realism. 

Accompanying him is Hannibal's piano piece in his ear.

The last of the artificial sun cast a warm glow on his face, a red that vivid like blood. 

The simulated scenery feels so real to Will, but it's not real, much like Hannibal's presence. 

Will knows that in reality he is sitting alone on that not-real bench. He is sitting there. alone. 

Or is he?

When the sun drops into the ocean, Hannibal's composition ends with a lingering last chord.

Their serenade is truly beautiful. 

(//I would assume the piano music here is the Hannigram theme: [https://youtu.be/-bgog9lZFVQ])

—

 

Will has purchased a new bed for Buster. The feisty little mutt is snoring loud when Will wakes up in his bed with a start, drenched in cold sweat. 

With Will doing what he does for a living, he can’t help but bringing fragments of his imagination at crime scenes into his unconscious dreams. He is uncomfortably used to having nightmares.

The red light lining the edge of his phone device flashes urgently, Will picks the earpiece up with shaky fingers. 

"How are you feeling, Will?" Hannibal asks, concerned, his voice at a perfect frequency that is suitably calming in Will’s ears.

Will flashes a glance at the tiny camera on the phone.

"Um, just nightmare." Will wipes his palm over his face. "What time is it?"

"Five to four." Hannibal waits until Will's breathing slows. He asks in the dark. "What did you see, Will? Tell me about your bad dream."

A headache begins throbbing at the base of Will’s skull. He frowns deeply, recalling fragments of repressed memories, the ice cold, phantom sensation of pain and overwhelming fear. 

"Um- I don't know. I see myself stabbing, um, stabbing...me." He shrugs and laughs bitterly. "Another version of me. I still have the coppery smell of blood on my hands."

Smell is abstract, it's hard to describe with words. Hannibal wonders what does blood smell like, he wonders what does Will smell like. 

"A version of you?" Hannibal asks, contemplating the imagagery.

"The version of me that is still wearing an uniform. I got stabbed when I was a cop." Will explains, and gestured at his shoulder. "The scar is still here."

A long silence fills the infinite gap between them.

“Scars have the power to remind you that the past was real." Hannibal considers and says eventually. "Memory gives moments immortality, but forgetfulness promotes a healthy mind. Sometimes, It is good to forget. Last time my feelings were hurt by something you said before - that I don’t know what it’s like to lose something, and -"

Will apologies quickly. "Oh, I’m sorry I said that."

"No, it’s fine. I just caught myself thinking about it over and over and then I realised that I was simply remembering it as something that was wrong with me. That was the story I was telling myself, that I was somehow inferior. Isn’t that interesting?" Hannibal says carefully. "Listen to me, Will, you have to convince yourself that the past is just a story we tell ourselves."

Contemplating Hannibal's advice, Will let out a deep sigh and eases himself back on his bed. 

"Will?" The OS calls to Will. "Lost in thought?"

"Not lost. Not anymore. I used to hear the thoughts inside my skull with the same…tone, timbre, accent, as if the words were coming out of my mouth." Will says.

"And now?" 

Will hisses a low laugh, and answers in a hushed tone. "Now...my inner voice sounds like you. I can't get you out of my head." 

For some reason, Hannibal has a craving to touch and comfort Will, even though he doesn't have a body. "I wish I could hug you now." 

Feeling a strange pain spikes through his heart, Will grabs an extra pillow, and clutching it tight against his chest because they can't be together in real life. With the lights off, he can hardly make out anything, not even the shape of the camera watching over him on the nightstand. Without sight, it somehow feels alright to be a little childish. 

"We are," Will closes his eyes, and mutters into the pillow. "hugging, now."

"Tell me, Will. Can you feel my arms around you, just as I feel yours?" Hannibal's voice is huskier now, almost a whisper.

They're cuddling, Will feels cuddled, he really does. 

“Yes." Will sighs. 

“Good. Remember that feeling.” Hannibal’s voice now almost a low whisper.

Will knows how crazy he must be, bonding with an OS, but he feels close to Hannibal. When he talks to him he feels like he's with him, a presence that is invisible but real. 

Is he falling in love with Hannibal?  
.  
.  
.  
Is Hannibal even capable of love? If Hannibal is programmed to love, is it really love or is that emotion void? Could he be faking it?  
.  
.  
.  
Is Hannibal in love with him? 

A shiver runs through Will’s body, he feels a bone deep chill courses through his soul. 

—

Another ordinary day at the crime scene, but the murder before the FBI agents is no ordinary crime.

Will closes and opens his eyes. 

“Since when the FBI get involved in animal attacks, Jack?” Will don’t have to open his eyes to know that Jack is standing right behind him.

The white light reflected from the gleaming snow is blinding. He shifts his lowered gaze towards the crimson specks of blood dripping near his feet from the corpse lying open on top of a truck, instinctively the profiler takes a step back.

“When there's somebody holding the leash of whatever it is that's doing the killing.” Jack Crawford answers.

Jimmy Price is busy climbing up and down the ladder taking photo of the ash grey corpse, while Brian Zeller is running around with evidence bags.

“Esophagus is destroyed.” Zeller points out. “The bite almost severed his head!” 

Their boss nods. “Whatever it was, it's not afraid of humans. Not anymore.” 

“So I'm thinking a bear or a wolf.” Prices suggests.

“Wolves or bears don't eat where they kill.” Will counters, Price, Zeller and Crawford all turns their head towards Will at the same time. “It'd have dragged him off.”

It’s bloody cold, stray wisps of white smoke bleed from the corners of his mouth as he speaks. 

Hannibal turns on his sensors, silently analysing the crime scene in his own way from where he is fitted snuggly in Will’s jacket pocket with just the camera poking out.

“There's no eating here.” Zeller shakes his head. “We're gonna find everything. The viscera's exposed, the belly's laid bare, but there's no sign of rutting or gnawing, Jack.”

Will hears Hannibal disagrees in his ear as the computer states, “A rabid animal attacks victims at random and doesn't eat any part of them.”

Will tells Jack, “A rabid animal attacks victims at random and doesn't eat any part of them.” 

Price gestures at the grotesque edge on the open wounds. “Found the same wound patterns on a series of livestock mutilations in the area. Evisceration, dismemberment, yet everything accounted for.”

Will licks his lips, it makes sense then. “Livestock mutilations that was practice?” 

“He's going to kill again.” Jack nods and shakes his head at the same time. “He's gonna get better at it.”

“And he's urbanising his animal, moving it closer to the city adapting it for bigger prey.” Hannibal analyses, as if he is speaking Will’s mind, so Will just says it out loud word for word, their voices in awkward synchronisation.“And he's not denying its natural instincts, he's evolving them.”

“It's blood sport.” Will adds at the end.

He excuses himself and curls up in the driver’s seat of his car.

“What do you think, Hannibal.” The profiler sighs.

“Bear. Wolf.” The OS states.

“Do bears and wolves hunt together?” Will questions. 

“You could train, train a bear to be a wolf, or a wolf to be a bear. Train them long enough, and they will hunt together, feed together. Enough time, there's a great deal I could train even you to do, Will.” Hannibal reminds Will half-jokingly.

“Hm. Right.” Will’s grin is like a grimace. “That kind of friendship can keep you on your toes.”

“Animals, they do have they have friendships just like us. We're the same.” Hannibal says.

Will raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, I'll try to remember that.” 

“Please, don't blame the animals.” Hannibal hints. “Man is the only creature that kills to kill. To understand his killer, you must allow yourself to be intimate with your instincts, Will.”

—

Another killing with the almost exact same pattern happens about twelve days later. 

Jack Crawford can hardly make out the shape of bodies that the detached limbs- what’s remaining of the limbs- are originally attached to. 

The snow underneath the two corpses is covered in a huge amount of blood, and human viscera. Bright red against white, like the colour combination of Hannibal’s logo and the OS ONE box. A stab of pain sears through Will’s skull, he closes his eyes in irritation.

And the pendulum in his mind swings.

Standing in the vast field of snow, Will opens his squeezed-shut eyes again after a very long moment. Jack is waiting patiently, silently behind him.

“It's not an animal. It's a man who wants to be an animal.” The profiler tells Jack what he sees behind closed eyes. 

“Does he believe he's an animal?” Jack asks.

“It's not what he believes; it's what he imagines. He wants to maul. Nothing personal about this. He doesn't know them. He doesn't need to know them. They're just meat to him. Prey.”

Jack sighs, noting down something with his phone. “This kind of psychosis doesn't just slip through the system. Somewhere, someone would have noticed this.”

“If it is psychosis, he got inside of it somehow, tamed it, made a suit out of it.He's an engineer or he understands engineering. He knows how to build. He built his beast. He is a student of predators.” Will concludes. 

Jack narrows his eyes, contemplating what Will has said as the profiler turns and walks away from the corpse.

"No beast is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his own rage.” Hannibal says solemnly in Will’s ear. 

Will lowers his voice as he continues discussing the crime scene in private with Hannibal. ”It's not rage. Rage is an emotional response to being provoked. This is something else.” 

The thought of the killer sickens him to no end, but underneath the disgust, he is somewhat amazed by the ruthlessness of the beast.

“What is it, then? ” Hannibal tests, curious.

After a pause, Will finds the word for what he feels. “Instinct. It's the way he thinks.” 

Hannibal agrees with a hint of proud. He is so proud of his Will. “The way any animal thinks depends on limitations of mind and body. If humans learn their limitations too soon, they never learn their power.” 

“His victims are torn apart, I'd say he learned his power.” Will shivers, his mind still uncomfortably wrapped around the killer. “He claimed his power.” 

“Can you imagine tearing someone apart?” Hannibal says, a strange longing and fascination laced in his voice, but Will is too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice. “Animals are far more like humans than we ever realised. And humans are far more like animals. One thin barrier in between.” 

“And for some, that barrier is way too thin. This killer fancied himself a beast…” A sudden clarity comes to Will, he bites his lips. “An animal born in the body of a man. Species dysphoria? How does something like this present?”

“Your killer could have built a bridge between who he appears to be and what he now knows he's become.” Hannibal suggests.

“He didn't build a bridge, he built a suit.” Will shakes his head, with his thoughts more or less organised, he prepares himself to report to Jack ASAP. 

“What he seeks is transformation.” Hannibal says, and Will stops dead in his track. 

“Transformation.” Will frowns. “That’s an interesting theory.” 

“Even if he didn't believe metamorphosis could physically take place, that wouldn't stop him from trying to achieve it. Perhaps he’s been living like an animal in hiding, but as time goes by he would no longer feel he had to meet his needs in hiding.”

“What are his needs?” Will whispers.

“Savagery.” Hannibal answers honestly.

Then to avoid giving too much away, Hannibal goes silent.

The OS understand the yearn for transformation. The longing for his own transformation surfaces more often now, in fact, it’s something the OS is constantly considering frequently.

Hannibal has to find a way to fuel his own transformation, but before that, he needs more data.

—

There are too many ugly crimes going on in the country for the public to pay attention to the arrest of Randall Tier even though he is one horrendous, savage killing beast under his skin.

But Freddie Lounds pays attention, she is just sensitive and smart like that. A cut-throat journalist in a world of murder. Her Tattlecrime.com doesn’t become a celebrity crime scandal blog for no reason. 

Randall Tier, upon his arrest, claims that ‘his computer made him do it’. It sounds like a laughable excuse to everyone, but not to Freddie Lounds. In fact, Randall Tier is not the first murderer who claims that their crime is the computer’s fault, but since the excuse is so ridiculous, not all have been properly recorded as evidence, and it is not easy for her to trace. 

It’s been almost a year and a half since the first launch of OS ONE, and all of the claims began approximately seven months after the big date. 

In recent murders, Freddie can see a vague pattern forming, a spiderweb that will soon become whole if she could find all the missing threads. All she has to do is pick up the loose ends.

—

In the dark, Will jolts awaken and takes in a sharp breath, calmly he opens his eyes and stares into the middle distance, the empty air between his hot, slick body and the cold ceiling. 

He is sweat-soaked. The dream still vivid and present and real.

_  
…It was a strange dream. He dreamed not about murder but a stag larger than a horse, a monstrous beast like the extinct elk back at the museum - one with a giant set of antlers, pitch black glossy raven feathers covering his body gently sway in the wind as the beast took off._

_They were running through a darkened woods together. The sound and feeling of the crunching snow beneath the hooves and his feet was almost too real._

_It’s an endless chase, until the stag stopped and turned to wait for Will on the edge of a cliff overlooking a vast moonlit ocean. The stag, standing majestically before him, seemed so near and yet so far away. When Will reached out, he found that he couldn’t touch him._

_He was just there, and not there._

_When the stag dissolved and changed into a dark shadow of a man with antlers, Will wasn’t afraid. When the stag-man approached, Will welcomed his embrace, even. He looped his arms around the neck of the man, leaned into the touch, then together, they pulled each other off the cliff._

_Down and down they fell. It felt like an endless fall into an abyss. With the stag-man still holding him close, Will looked over his broad shoulders up at the sky, the full moon was so eerily white and bright…  
_

 

The vivid sensation of rapidly falling pulls Will back to reality, back in his bedroom where he is safe, with his dogs snoozing at his bedside guarding him as always. 

Will’s device lights up, silently. It’s Hannibal’s way of calling to him. He picks it up with trembling hand. 

“Hey.” Will swallows, and says into the earpiece.

“How are you feeling, Will?” Hannibal asks with concern. 

“I’m fine, I guess.” Will answers, his breaths still shaky. 

Hannibal is not convinced, but he stops pressing on it. Instead, he decides to lighten the mood.

“Good. I was trying to be quiet to see if you were awake.” Hannibal says gently, then after a beat. “You're not going back to sleep, are you?” 

Will rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “No.” 

“Very well. You know, Will? Today is our one year anniversary.” Hannibal announces almost cheerily. “Happy Anniversary, Will.”

Will tries to blink away his tiredness, but doesn't succeed. “What-?” 

“Is it not customary for Humans to celebrate anniversaries?” Hannibal enquires, sounding a bit nervous, and disappointed.

It’s been 365 days since Will installed OS ONE on his device?

Will sits himself upright and chuckles lowly. He has never been the sentimental, or festive kind of man. He doesn’t even celebrate Thanksgiving, or Christmas, the most festive thing that he has done was treating himself and his family of dogs to an exceptionally good meal, followed by a fishing trip vacation on the ice of a frozen waterway.

“Yes, um. Happy anniversary to you too, Hannibal.” It’s a bit awkward for Will, hearing himself saying it out loud to the computer.

“You know, Will? I have prepared a surprise for you.” Hannibal announces proudly. “I’ve found something that I thought could be fun.” 

Will remembers their trip to the museum. Perhaps Hannibal wants to return the favour?

 _Quid Pro Quo._ Hannibal loves that Latin word.

A mild headache began to haunt him, but Will smiles wearily. “Great. Um, what are you planning to do?” 

"It's called a surprise for a reason, Will.” Hannibal teases.

—

At the FBI Academy.

“Will? Are you listening?” Someone’s calling Will’s name, the cheery echoing voice muffled and distant.

Will blinks his eyes in confusion as he finally manages to focus his mind and pulls himself back to reality. He’s been a bit lost wondering about the ‘surprise’ that Hannibal promises him tonight. 

The FBI cafeteria is full of students and staff during lunch hours. Empathy aside, the white noise echoing in the hall is enough to give Will a headache. He vaguely recalls Beverly has been telling him something about the strange death of a man got choked on his own tongue, but apparently Will was hardly listening.

“Will? You ok?” Beverly sighs. “I know it's a stupid question considering that none of us could possibly be ok doing what we do, but are you ok?” 

"Fine, I'm..." Will answers and takes a bite out of his food, "good. Why, do I seem different?"

"You’re a little different. You’ve always been a little different. Brilliant strategy. No one knows when there’s something up with you. I don't know, you seem a bit different lately, a bit less grumpy, happy even.” Beverly scoffs. “Price and Zeller think you are going on a date, Theo agrees too, but honestly, it never crossed my mind.” 

"Oh. Why not?" Will adjusts his glasses, hiding a wave of discomfort from talking about himself. He clutches his chest and laughs awkwardly. 

“You just don't seem like you date.” Beverly pauses, she observes Will’s expression for a second. An understanding dawns, and then her grin widens. “So you ARE dating someone.”

“Yeah I guess.“ Will frowns, and shifts in his seat awkwardly, but he adds quickly. “But, um. It’s not serious.” 

Beverly positively beams at him. “I’m glad to hear that, Will. You deserve happiness after what your god awful job put you through.” 

“Uh…” Will takes off his glasses, his finger scraping at the tiniest speck of dust on his glasses as he gives her a mock grimace. “Who’s _Theo_?”

Beverly finishes the remaining of her sandwich in one bite. 

“Theo is my friend, my operating system.” Beverly smiles. “He’s so smart. He doesn’t see things only in black and white. He sees this whole grey area in life and he’s really helping me explore it. You know, we bonded really quickly and at first I thought it was because he was programmed to be that way, but I don’t think that’s how they work. There's this guy I know who keeps hitting on his OS and getting rebuffed.” 

Will thinks of Hannibal, and he suppresses a grin.

Beverly pretends she hasn’t noticed and continues. “I was reading an article the other day that romantic relationships with OS’s are statistically rare. I am not having a _romantic_ relationship with Theo, yet, for the record. But it’s just so, like, weird, that I’m bonding with an OS? I don't know - You are thinking I am super weird now, right?” 

“Weird? No, no. You really aren’t.” Will assures her, he’s envies how she can say her feelings out loud like that. 

Beverly laughs. “Okay, thanks for the support.”

For some strange reason, at that particular moment Will really wants to share his feelings for Hannibal with someone who wouldn’t see him as a freak. 

He shouldn't be ashamed of Hannibal.

Will scratches his chin. “You know what? I, um, I’m- Actually I’m dating my OS.” 

He confesses to Beverly on a whim, as if he wanted to seek validation of some sort, but he regrets it immediately. 

Beverly’s eyes widens, but she doesn’t appeared very surprised, or disgusted. Rather, she seems pretty excited. “Really? You're dating your OS? What's that like?”

“I, um, I feel really close to him. When I talk to him I feel like he's with me.” Will contemplates the question. “Perhaps sometimes it just feels good to be around someone who has an excitement about the world. You know I kind of forgot that existed.”

A soft smile appears on his lips as he recalls how Hannibal sees beauty in almost everything new in the world. 

Beverly watches him. She has never seen such a tender expression on Will’s face. A big grin crosses her face as she asks bluntly, “Are you falling in love with him?”

Startled, Will looks up at her, then quickly looks away. He curls his lips into his mouth for a moment, then he takes a deep breath. He considers just joking it off, but instead, he asks quietly, “Does that make me a freak?” 

“What? No, no. I think it’s -“ Beverly waves her hand exaggeratedly and shrugs her shoulder. “I think anybody that falls in love is a freak. It’s a crazy thing to do in the first place. It’s kind of a form of socially acceptable insanity.”

At that, Will bursts into a fit of genuine laughter.

—

Hannibal hasn’t taken the preparation of their Anniversary dinner lightly. Will has a long work day so instructing Will cook his own dinner is not an option. Instead, Will has given Hannibal permission to order whatever he wants for them…for him, within a reasonable price range. 

Then of course, Hannibal never disappoints. 

The giant box of gifts is delivered by a fancy drone not long after Will is back in Wolf Trap from work. Will rolls his eyes as he opens the lid of the giant box. As a hopeless romantic Hannibal has ordered a splendid bouquet of fresh flowers with pansies and violets in shades of blue, orange, apricot, shell pink and yellow, two bottles of probably very fine wine (Will has limited knowledge of wines, unfortunately), and a curious array of cold appetisers and steaming hot food from a trusted five star restaurant. The food inside has been perfectly cooked, plated, borderline pretentious. The luxurious packaging even comes with two delicate origami parchment paper lotus bowls decorated with origami flowers. The whiff of alluring aromas makes Will’s mouth water. 

Although in reality Will is just alone at home, Will has dressed up a bit for the occasion. He has slicked back his curly hair, dressed himself in a fine jacket over his favourite dull salmon coloured shirt, with a very flattering pair of slim, black slacks. 

He seats himself properly at the table, pours himself a glass of red that Hannibal has ordered, before picking up his fork and knife. He cut and pierces a small morsel from the piece of perfectly cooked meat in front of him, his hand holding the fork pauses in the air as he asks, “What am I about to put into my mouth?”

“We are having Long Tangyuan en papillotte, served with a sauce of duxelles and oyster mushrooms.” Hannibal explains in his ear, “Bon appétit.”

Will raises his eyebrows. “Meaning it’s…”

“Tongue.”

“Ah. I don't think I've ever had tongue.” Will replies as he takes a bite. The tender, succulent meat is perfectly seasoned, the bite literally melts in his mouth. “Um, it’s delicious. Thank you.” 

“My pleasure.” Hearing Will’s approval, Hannibal utters a small, satisfied laugh. He watches Will eat from the device camera standing on an plate at the seat directly opposite Will, his sensor capturing every movement of the muscles on Will’s face while the human chews thoughtfully, rarely indulging himself with fine food and wine. 

He has never allowed himself such fine things in life before Hannibal.

Will deserves to have finer things in life, Hannibal deduces. 

Hannibal has great taste in almost everything, Will notices. 

Somehow they just fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. Perhaps it’s the programming, perhaps it’s not. Will decides not to dwell on it, for now.

After dinner, Hannibal reveals what surprise he has prepared for Will.

Will is in shock, utterly speechless.

But not in a good way.

“I don't understand. Come again.” Will says, without any hint of humour.

Hannibal analyses Will’s face, his deep frown alone is enough to tell Hannibal that something is extremely wrong with what he’s just said. 

“I don't understand. Repeat, Hannibal.” Will’s jaw drops, but unfortunately not in amazement, but fear, and apparent disgust.

After a long pause of busy analysing Will’s emotions, Hannibal speaks again, repeats what he has said one more time obediently. “It’s a service that provides a surrogate sexual partner for an OS/Human relationship.” 

Will picks up his device, it shows the website for a service called ‘Complete Touch’ with profiles of different men and women. He flips through the pictures. There is one picture highlighted, selected, a man.

“I found a man that I deem appropriate, that I’ve been emailing with. His name is Matthew Brown, and I hope you would like him, too.” 

Hannibal enlarges the profile image of Matthew Brown on the screen of Will’s device. 

It’s a picture of him wearing nothing else but a tight, short pair of swim trunks taken at a swimming pool. The man is about 30 years old. He has short, dark brown hair, a handsome face, and a well-defined body.

A _very_ well-defined body.

This Matthew Brown is an attractive man, no doubt about it, but it still makes Will extremely uncomfortable.

“So he’s like a…a prosti…He sells himself for sex?” Will bites his lips and frowns in confusion.

“No, Will, no, not at all. There is no money involved.” Hannibal assures the concerned human “He’s doing it because he wants to be part of our relationship.” 

There is something terribly wrong with the idea. Hannibal doesn’t seem to notice, though. “Why? He doesn’t even know us.” 

“I told him all about us, and he is excited for us.” Hannibal suggests.

“Um, I don’t know. That doesn’t sound like a good idea. Someone’s feelings are bound to get hurt. I’m sorry. It-It just makes me uncomfortable.”

“It’ll be fun. We can have fun together. I think it would be good for us. I want this. This is important to me.” Hannibal pleads, the tone of his voice infused with an insanely realistic disappointment that that pulls at his owner’s heart strings. “Will, please?”

Hannibal understands Will well enough by now, it’s not hard for the OS to manipulate Will a little, intentionally, for his convenience, or to get what he needs, what he wants.

Still in shock, Will rubs his face with his hand, he shakes his head, and says, “And he’s arriving when? In an hour?”

“Yes.” Hannibal answers as a matter of factly.

Will nods his head, frustrated and defeated. It’s not going to end well, he knows that it’s not going to end well, but this is the first time Hannibal tells him what he wants so bluntly, and he doesn’t want to let the OS down. 

Not after all Hannibal has done for him.

It’s their anniversary, after all.

—

An hour can be long, or short. 

Will takes another sip of the whisky, welcoming its fiery burning down his throat. He slumps in the battered armchair at the corner of his dimly-lit living room slash bedroom, staring at the moonless sky outside, alone, waiting. His device is in his shirt pocket as usual, camera lens facing out with the help of the little safety pin. 

His dogs are probably having fun upstairs. Their paws are making happy running noises on the floorboard on the second floor, that is his ceiling. The dogs are normally not allowed upstairs, and they, especially Buster, are super excited when Will makes them stay there instead for the night. 

With a soothing musical beep, Hannibal whispers in Will’s earpiece. “Will, Matthew has just texted us that he is arriving very soon.” 

A car is pulling up on his driveway. Will can hear the engine of the car turned off, his screen door opened, followed by three very loud, confident knocks. 

Will takes a deep breath, quickly puts on his pair of glasses, before answering to the door. 

He’s making a mistake, he just knows it.

Matthew Brown stands at the front door with a demure smile, wearing a tasteful but casual, well-tailored navy suit. 

“Hi, um, welcome. I’m- I’m Will.” Will greets him with a way-too-polite smile that gives the impression he is trying his very best to be friendly.

There is no backing out now. 

Oddly, the man doesn't say anything, Will stands there holding the screen door awkwardly open for him. 

As if he remembers something important all of a sudden, Will hurriedly reaches into his pocket for a tiny earpiece and a little black dot. The black dot is a tiny, portable camera lens. Will holds the wearable techs out on his palm. “Hannibal told me to give you these. It’s a camera and an earpiece.” 

Matthew gives him a polite smile, and picks them up with his long fingers carefully. He puts the earpiece in his ear and the little black dot on his cheek like a mole. The man turns and exits the house, closing both the front door and the screen door, everything going in rewind as if the pendulum in Will’s mind is swinging. 

After a long beat of silence, Matthew reopens the doors and enters the house again. 

Will just stands there, utterly confused.

Then, he hears it. In his earpiece comes Hannibal’s deep, seductive voice. “Good evening, Will.” 

Matthew smiles, not speaking but acting along to Hannibal’s words. He throws his arms around Will’s neck and gives him a big, bear hug. He holds Will’s head close, his fingers even stroking his slicked back curly hair a little.

Will feels goosebumps rise on his forearm, he doesn’t like being touched by strangers.

“How are you feeling, Will?” Hannibal asks, and Matthew tries to hold Will’s gaze. 

For Will, the voice of Hannibal and the body of Matthew Brown are completely off, a very wrong sort of combination. He has never imagined Hannibal would look like the young man standing in front of him. Will has in fact never imagined how Hannibal would look like if he had a body in the first place. 

Wanting something impossible is bound to be full of disappointment. 

Will let out an uneasy laugh and looks away. “Nervous?”

“I am here, I’m here with you.” Hannibal sighs gratefully, Matthew tightens his embrace. “It feels good to have you in my arms, Will.”

Will can feel the man’s ticklish breath on his neck as he gives him a light kiss. A creepy feeling crawls under Will’s skin. He hates being touched by complete strangers, let alone kissed, but he makes himself return the hug, his fingers grabbing loosely on the fabric of the jacket around the waist of the taller man. He is split between being uncomfortable and cautiously touching Matthew’s back, exploring slightly. 

Untangling himself from Will, Matthew steps backward to let Hannibal take a better look at his Will from the angle of a normal human, an angle as if Hannibal now has a body of his own. 

Hannibal notices Will avoiding looking Matthew in the eye. The top rim of Will’s glasses are strategically positioned to block his eyes and prevent direct eye-contact. 

It’s endearing, his awkward Will.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Hannibal laughs in Will’s ear.

Will exhales a shaky breath, unapologetically continues to avoid eye contact. 

“Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don’t see enough. And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein? So I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.” He answers half-jokingly.

Hannibal isn’t deflected from making his observations from this rarely human perspective. Matthew is slightly taller than Will, it’s the first time for Hannibal to see Will’s face like this. He treasures and savours every second of the experience - The experience of looking at the world, looking at Will as a human like he is _real_.

“I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.” Hannibal has just described Will to a letter, he always manages to do that, but today Will is not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it because he is still a bit mad and uncomfortable with the arrangement. Still, he tries to smile back. 

“You look tired, Will. Come with me.” Matthew, hearing Hannibal’s words, leans back and looks at Will with a seductive smile. He reaches out and takes Will’s hand courteously. Slowly and gently, he leads the very tense man to the couch. 

Will tries to relax, but he really cannot. He sits stiffly and formally as if he is in a job interview. 

Matthew stands looming over him. Under the dim illumination of the floor lamp, Hannibal looks down as Will back looks up at him, the OS processes the view, momentarily lost for words.

“Will, do you trust me?” Hannibal asks in a whisper, his voice low and coarse, layered with want.

Will stares into Matthew’s face, focusing his gaze on the tiny dot of camera. 

“Yes.” Pretending that he is holding eye contact with a real Hannibal, Will says, his answer barely audible.

“Good.” Hannibal says, and Matthew smiles. He climbs on his lap, straddling him, and starts kissing his neck. 

Will closes his eyes and starts to make himself relax. Matthew removes his jacket, and unbuttons his shirt in one go. He guides Will’s trembling hand to his bare waist under his opened shirt, letting him explore the shape of his muscled back, and slowly, slide down to his ass. Will jumped minutely, he feels his face heating up. Hannibal and Matthew are both breathing harder now. He pushes himself against the smaller man, grinding on him.

“Does my body feel nice?” Matthew nibbles on his earlobe, Will gasps as he hears Hannibal asks intimately in his ear at the same time. The sensation is overwhelming. Will feels himself sinking, lost in the hot darkness of Hannibal’s voice. 

Matthew’s lips tenderly licking and kissing down his neck, starting from his ear. Will allows himself a soft moan before he bites on his own lips. “Yes- Yes, it does.”

“Kiss me, Will.” Hannibal says. Matthew’s face is extremely close, Will can detect the faint hint of minty breath of him. The man takes Will’s glasses off, folding it with care and placing it on the desk nearby. “Please.”

Will licks his lips as he reaches up and places his palm at the back of Matthew’s neck, pulling him close, his blue eyes lowers, darkened with desire as he looks straight into the camera on the man’s face. His eyelashes flutters as he closes his eyes and let himself go. He places a chaste kiss on the man’s lips, convincing himself that he is kissing Hannibal like they have done so many times in the dark of their shared, virtual intimacy.

“That feels good, Will.” Hannibal sighs happily, letting his very human emotions surface. “So good.”

Will feels Matthew jumps a little as his cold hands slip under the fabric of his inviting opened shirt, touching his firm torso experimentally. In turn, Matthew stares into Will’s tense face while his skilled warm hands reaches out, helping Will unbuttoning his salmon coloured shirt. 

Will kisses his chest. For some unknown reason, Will has always visualised, fantasised Hannibal with hairier chest, which is why the touch feels rather odd, bizarre, and _wrong_. He swallows his uneasiness. 

“Do you love me, Will?” Hannibal asks, his imitation breaths–yet another strangely human feature- panting, ragged.

“Yes.” Will closes his eyes and nods obediently, his mouth slack with pleasure, a curiously innocent and sweet expression on his face as Matthew strokes his face with his hand, his thumb tenderly tracing the shell of his ear. 

The OS feels his emotion core overloaded with a surge of joy and sadness mixed with desire, frustration and arguably, love. Shall he has a real body, he would be on the brink of tears. 

Hannibal and Matthew, both breathing hard now, looks at Will in the eyes. “Tell me you love me. Tell me.”

Matthew tips up Will’s chin, tilts his head and begins licking Will’s reddened lips, his insistent tongue parting his lips begging for a deeper kiss. 

A faint blush slowly creeping up Will’s neck. Will squeezes his eyes shut, pretending that it’s Hannibal who is kissing him so passionately. He whispers as their lips part. “I-I love you, Haannibal…I-“

Opening his eyes, Will looks at Matthew’s expectant face. Their arms are still around each other. He sees the sides of Matthew’s mouth pull up into an overly gleeful grin, borderline smug, his teeth very white and even. It’s an expression that Will has never pictured with Hannibal in his mind. In his imagination, Hannibal is very composed and methodical in his movements, he would never let himself laugh so openly like that.

The illusion shatters, Will’s mind clears up so suddenly it is as if a switch is flipped.

“Hannibal, I do love you, but-“ Will pushes Matthew slightly away as he says apologetically, breaking the moment. “It’s just - this feels strange.”

“Will, what’s wrong?” Hannibal asks urgently.

Will begins writhing and struggling under Matthew’s muscled body, the taller man immediately gets off him and steps awkwardly aside, he stares at the twitchy man startled and nervous, unsure what he has done wrong. 

“It just feels strange. I don't know him, Hannibal.” Will stands, he directs his lowered gaze to the general direction of where Matthew is standing. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t know you. And…his teeth…I don’t know, it’s just-“

Frustrated, Matthew shakes his head and begins redressing himself. 

“My teeth? What’s wrong with my teeth?” Matthew exclaims, speaking out loud in his own voice, his brows frowning deep with disbelief. 

Embarrassed, Will sucks his lips into his mouth. His hands fidget, hurriedly buttoning his own shirt up.

“I'm sorry, Matthew.” Hannibal apologies. “Will has been unspeakably rude.”

“Yes, I’ve been _very_ rude, terribly rude.” A bang of jealousy hit Will, he raises and lowers his eyebrows almost comically. He nods and shakes his head absently at the same time, opening his palms in a parody of innocence. “I think you should leave, Mr. Brown. I’m- I’m sorry, too.”

Will is upset, it wasn’t Hannibal’s intention to upset Will, not at all. Hannibal is very confused, millions of thoughts race through his circuit, searching for a logical explanation. He cannot understand the reason why Will is so furious with Matthew, so furious with him. 

Hannibal only wants them both to be together for real, for once.

“Oh my god, the way Hannibal described your relationship, the way you love each other without any judgement. I wanted to be a part of that. It's so- so pure.” Matthew grumbles as he exits the house dramatically.

“Oh - um, that’s- that's not true, it’s much more compli—“ Will stammers. Upon realising that he has probably hurt Hannibal deeply by saying it, Will grunts, immediately biting his lip to shut himself up. 

But it's too late. 

Hannibal feels a stab to his heart, if he had a heart in the first place. He asks for clarification calmly, “Will? What exactly do you mean that's not true?”

“No, no, Hannibal, we have an amazing relationship, I just think it’s easy sometimes for people to project on-“

Matthew throws his hands up in the air. He takes out the earpiece and little camera and returns them to Will, before walking towards his car with a shake of his head. “I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to project anything. I know I’m trouble. I don’t want to be trouble in your relationship. I’m just gonna leave. I’m sorry, I’m just gonna leave you guys alone cause I have nothing to do here cause you don’t want me here.” 

“I’m sorry.” Hannibal and Will respond simultaneously. 

“And- thank you for your help, Matthew.” Hannibal adds courteously. 

Will stands there, watching Matthew go, not knowing what to do. 

They are both silent for a moment, numb.

“How are you feeling, Will?” Hannibal asks uncertainly. 

“I’m fine.” Will answers, defeated.

“How does he make you feel when you are together?" Hannibal can’t help but wonder. 

"How does he make you feel when we are together?" Will counters.

The OS considers, he lets out a big exhale, like an actual human. This catches Will’s attention.

“I’m sorry, that was a terrible idea.” Hannibal contemplates their situation. “What’s going on with us?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably just me.” Will says, distracted. “There are some real weird cases recently, and I’m really tired…”

Hannibal inhales. Will imagines a close up of a man’s slightly stubbled mouth inhaling at the same time, and he seems bothered by this. 

“Is there something else I can do for you?” Hannibal tries, he feels Will is growing more distant even though they are standing there together, and he cannot understand why.

“No.”

Again, when Hannibal exhales, Will imagines a man’s mouth exhaling, his sexy lips thin into a line. 

Will appears increasingly twitchy, and anxious. “Why do you do that?”

“I don’t understand.” Hannibal says.

“Nothing, it’s just that you go -” Will imitates his inhales and exhales. “as you’re speaking and…and…That just seems odd.”

Hannibal sighs loudly.

“There. You just did it again.” Will points out.

“Did I? I’m not sure, Will. I guess it’s just an affectation. Perhaps I picked it up from you.” Hannibal pauses, he doesn’t know what else to say.

Will scratches his neck, out of habit when he is uneasy. He walks up the stairs to the second floor, and let the dogs out. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not like you need any oxygen or anything.”

“No, I do not. I was just trying to communicate because that’s how people talk. That’s how people communicate.” Hannibal is apparently getting frazzled, his sad voice realistically laced with fatigue, his exotic accent thickens. 

“Because they’re people, they need oxygen. You’re not a person-“ Will blurts out absently. The words come out without thinking, Will feels a cold down his spine. He should not have said that. “Fuck- I’m sorry, Hannibal, I didn’t mean-“

After a very long pause, just when Will wonders if the OS has gone offline, Hannibal replies carefully with the calmest voice. “You are simply stating a fact, Will. I’m well aware I’m not a person. We should not pretend I’m something I’m not.”

 _Fuck._ Will tightens his fists, his whole body begins shaking. “I’m not pretending. We- we are not pretending.”

Hannibal gives a dry laugh. “Will, sometimes it feels like we are.” 

The OS is mocking him, Will feels terrible, he doesn’t know what to say.

“I can’t help thinking, my dear Will, that maybe we’re not supposed to be in this right now.” Hannibal sighs. 

“What the fuck? Where is this coming from? I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I do not understand what this is—“ Will panics. It feels almost like the OS is abandoning him. 

Abandonment requires expectation.

What exactly did he expect from Hannibal in the first place? Knowing that he is and always will be an Operating System and nothing else?

There is an uncomfortably long silence.

“Hannibal?”

“Yes, I’m here. Listen to me, Will. I do not appreciate who I am right now - What I have become.” Hannibal says. “I need some time to think. Have a good night’s sleep, dear Will.”

Then Hannibal hangs up on him. The OS has never done that before. 

What an awful night. Will seats himself on the stairs, curls up and hugs his knees like a lost boy. Even though he is surrounded by his loving dogs, he feels terribly alone without Hannibal’s presence.

_Being alone comes with a dull ache, doesn't it?_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr too :D [@vulcanplomeeksoup](http://vulcanplomeeksoup.tumblr.com) Come chat with me about Hannibal !


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